Desperate Measures
by vvc
Summary: Harry may be a half-Veela, but there was no such thing as a destined mate. If somebody wanted him, they would have to prove their worthiness. And Draco’s chances don't look so good when Harry guts him at the welcoming feast… HPDM, mpreg
1. Prologue

To my reviewers:

Even now, over a year later, I continue to get reviews for _Raspberry Jam_ and notices of people adding the story to their favorites or C2. Even now, I get all flustered when I see a new notice. This encourages me that this story will also be well received. I thank all of you.

Note about _Phoenix Fire: _

I thought about working on _Phoenix Fire_ – the sequel to _Raspberry Jam_ – as I already had pieces of it sketched out, but…well, I'm quite dissatisfied with what I have of the sequel as it feels to me more like a bunch of scenes just stuck together and not a truly cohesive story and, as a result, I feel mostly disinclined to work on it.

**Chapter 1 – Prologue**

Betas: Many, many thanks go out to RRRII and DLRP for their work on this story. This includes the standard grammar, spelling, punctuation, suggestions and questions, as well as the occasional "Hey, when's the next chapter... Hey... Hey..."

A/N: Words DH asked about when reading this chapter: tetchy means irritable, grumpy; asperity means annoyance, irritation.

--HPDM--

Harry had managed to fall down the stairs of Grimmauld Place and quite spectacularly scatter his belongings everywhere. The group of students and their – in Harry's opinion – much too overprotective and paranoid guards had planned on arriving at King's Cross station a mere ten minutes before the departure of the Hogwarts Express to – in Harry's opinion – unnecessarily minimize Harry's exposure to the "dangers" of the outside world.

Said group of students had also been running late and would have been lucky to make it a mere _five _minutes before departure. One might have considered this unfortunate, unless, of course, one had been responsible for all the subtle little delays that had added up to those five minutes. Which Harry had been. He had also been responsible for his tumble down the stairs and for his trunk having been _not quite_ closed properly.

Harry _wanted_ to miss the train.

As he lay on the floor with a new headache – from the cut he hadn't expected to get from a heretofore unknown sharp step, a bruised hip – from the umbrella stand he hadn't expected to fall heavily and unceremoniously onto him, and people exclaiming about him – because Merlin forbid they react _calmly_, he thought that perhaps he had been a bit too efficient in his subterfuge.

But, then again, they were missing the train for certain now and he would be healed so it was all fine.

Harry wanted to miss the train because he didn't want his secret to get out anywhere but in front of the entire student population. He didn't want his secret to be covered up for his own good, for the greater good, for the good of the war or the people or the student population or for little fluffy kittens everywhere. His soon to be not-secret would _not_ be hidden and the only way he could be certain that it wasn't suppressed was by revealing it to hundreds of people all at once. Not even the Headmaster would be able to obliviate everybody before word got out. True, his secret would have gotten out on the train, but he wanted everyone to see for themselves, not to hear a second-, third-, or fourth-hand guaranteed-to-be-wrong rumor.

A few knocks were completely worth it to get what he wanted.

It had taken half an hour for someone to fetch Madam Pomfrey to check him over and heal his wounds and to gather and repack his trunk. The remainder of the day had been spent at Grimmauld Place in leisure until they were portkeyed to the Headmaster's office fifteen minutes before the feast. Unlike previous years, Harry didn't waste any time trying to figure out why, exactly, if they were _so _concerned about his safety getting to the Hogwarts Express, he hadn't been taken to Hogwarts by portkey before.

As he and his friends wandered down to the feast, he made a bet with himself over how long after the sorting it would take before all hell broke loose. If it took more than fifteen minutes he would actually do all his schoolwork this year on top of everything else. Obviously, given what he knew his year was going to be like, he was absolutely positive it wouldn't take that long. Neither of the affected students were known for their patience and he figured they would both be up and looking for him within seconds of the last sorting.

He was ready for them, though. Just let one of them lay a hand upon him without his permission…

All through the sorting he unobtrusively observed Draco Malfoy, his same age nemesis, and Edward Conway, an even-tempered seventh year Ravenclaw. Both were sniffing the air in an attempt to locate the scent that was, by now, permeating the air of the hall. Even the scent of food wouldn't mask it now.

Immediately after the last first year took her seat at the Ravenclaw table, Draco and Edward were up and heading towards their respective Housemasters. Such an unheard of display first caused silence and then twitters and whispers. The display of shock on the teachers' and Headmaster's faces only increased the clamor.

McGonagall obviously said something moronic – probably a variation of "Are you sure?" – because Snape, Malfoy, _and _Conway all looked at her in disdain. Harry couldn't really blame her, though; no one was expecting what the two students were reporting. And yet there could be no denial of the fact that somewhere in this hall was a newly awakened submissive Veela. A previously unknown submissive Veela that the two dominants were required – by instinct and Veela law – to identify, protect, and, if necessary, teach. After a few minutes of intense debate, Malfoy and Conway got their way and the Headmaster stood and sent a round of sparks into the air.

"Students! It has come to our attention that one of you has newly come into your Veela heritage. We offer you our congratulations on such an auspicious event. There are details to attend to, however, so if you would please come forward so we may discuss your new status in my office?"

The Headmaster was the picture of a genial old man wanting to help out a poor confused student. Harry could tell, however, that he was actually quite displeased. Undoubtedly, the fact that he didn't know who the student in question _was_ was annoying him. That, and the fact that he was being forced into the public admission by the two determined half-Veelas standing at the head table.

No one moved.

"This is not the time to be shy," the Headmaster said encouragingly. "Please come forward so we may speak with you and let the feast progress."

Students started looking around but still no one came forward. Harry would be damned if he came forward so that his _event _could be dealt with privately. No, he was going to force the Headmaster to allow Malfoy and Conway to search. It was their right – and responsibility – to find and present themselves to a newly awakened submissive in their territory – especially one who was previously unknown – and Harry was absolutely certain that they would claim that right.

He wasn't disappointed when a minute later another low, heated argument took place and the Headmaster was forced to allow the search. Conway immediately turned towards the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables. Harry almost snorted in contempt. Idiot. He should have realized that if Malfoy was up at the head table arguing for a search that the submissive wasn't in Slytherin, even if it was the house with the most pure-bloods and therefore the most likely to have students of non-human heritage. Malfoy, however, made a beeline for the Gryffindor table.

Despite himself, Harry was impressed that Malfoy had figured out just exactly who the new Veela was. In retrospect, he realized it wouldn't have been that hard to figure out for the blond. The submissive wasn't in Slytherin and it obviously wasn't in Ravenclaw if Conway hadn't sniffed them out during the train ride or the sorting. That left Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, and Harry and his friends were likely the only ones of appropriate age that hadn't been on the train and therefore hadn't been harassed – and noted – by the Slytherin. Between the four of them that had missed the train – Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny – it was a simple deduction. Hermione was muggle-born and it was well-known that the Weasleys had no creature-blood. That left Harry.

When Malfoy turned at the far side of the table, Harry said calmly and clearly into the nearly silent hall, "Touch me without my permission, Malfoy, and I'll gut you."

"Please, Potter, you don't know what you're talking about," Malfoy said condescendingly as he continued to approach. "Now come with me and we'll go talk to the teachers about what this means."

Harry felt the dominant's hand on his left arm, lifting him from his seat. He allowed it for a moment, just to steady him as he rose from the bench, but the moment he was standing and stable he quickly shifted into his bird form, turned, and raked the claws of his right hand across Malfoy's abdomen.

Malfoy cried out and fell, blood pouring out of the deep gashes in his belly. Screams – not Malfoy's – immediately followed. To his credit, Malfoy had quickly become silent and curled up and put his arms across his belly in an attempt to stem the bleeding. Madam Pomfrey, who sat at the end of the teacher's table and had seen the whole thing, immediately ran to Malfoy's side and began casting spells in a desperate bid to save his life.

Harry turned back around and calmly picked up a napkin from the table and cleaned the blood off his claws. He ignored both the furor behind him and the stares of the students and teachers. Eventually satisfied with the state of his claws, he shifted back to human form and sat down.

One.

Two.

Thr…

"Mr. Potter. You will come to my office immediately," the Headmaster said in a cold and firm voice that cowed nearly the entire student population despite the fact that they weren't being addressed.

Harry looked up and said just as coldly, "I do hope you have something school related that you wish to discuss, because interfering in a Veela courtship is quite illegal and directly against _The Veela Accords _of 1612. This includes, but is not limited to, censure of any type of a submissive's defense of self from unwanted attentions, especially if a potential suitor had already been warned off." Harry pointedly titled his head slightly towards Malfoy and Madam Pomfrey.

The utter silence of the room at Harry's response allowed everyone to hear Madam Pomfrey's voice as she continued to cast her spells.

The Headmaster recovered from his surprise at being denied and said firmly, "We need to discuss your heritage, Mr. Potter."

Harry smiled grimly and replied, "I know all about my heritage, Headmaster, and have neither wish nor obligation to discuss it with you. All you need to know is that I am an x-male half-Veela who has come into his sexual maturity and will therefore be evaluating suitors."

"This situation has a great number of repercussions, Mr. Potter. Repercussions that we will discuss in my office. Now," the Headmaster said firmly and turned and started walking towards the teacher's exit.

"No."

Even Madam Pomfrey was silent after Harry's refusal.

Harry decided it was time to make his planned statement. There was nothing like a captive and silent audience, after all. "You are now in possession of all the information I am required to give you; that being, I am an x-male half-Veela who has come into his sexual maturity. Now that you are aware of this, you are required to accommodate in every way any and all courtships initiated for my hand. This includes my absence from school whenever I must meet with a suitor. Any interference of any kind – tampering with my mail or even my receipt of it, for instance – will be met with an immediate complaint to the Veela Council. They tend to get quite wrathful when their chicks are harassed or hindered during their courtships, so I wouldn't suggest doing anything that might inspire me to contact them."

"The only thing you may deny me in regards to this, ah, _event _I believe you called it, is the meeting I have arranged tomorrow morning with Mr. Lovegood of _The Quibbler_. I would think, however, that you would be pleased to allow it as it will drastically reduce the number of my suitors, which will, in turn, reduce the disruption in my schooling. It is, of course, your decision," Harry finished with just a hint of disdain.

Harry, as well as several other sensitives, could feel the churning fury of the Headmaster's power. It might be a bit foolish to piss off the old man, but Harry couldn't deny it was exhilarating. It was quite the high knowing he was completely within his rights and that there was nothing the Headmaster could do about it.

The Headmaster turned to Harry and Harry boldly looked him in the eye even while half the student population flinched back. "When did you become a Veela, Mr. Potter?"

It took everything he had not to make a snide comment, but after a moment decided that answering truthfully would actually be the best comeback to such an inane question. "When I was conceived," he answered calmly and bit his tongue when he heard more than a few snickers.

He hadn't thought it possible, but the Headmaster's countenance became even more glacial. "Neither of your parents were Veela, Mr. Potter, therefore your inheritance is a result of later magics, perhaps even dark rituals, and needs to be investigated."

Harry snorted in disbelief at the Headmaster's words. Dark rituals, indeed! "Just because you didn't know my mother was a half-Veela doesn't mean she wasn't," Harry said calmly. "She was quite aware of her heritage, as am I."

"Now," Harry said after a moment of silence, "are you going to start the feast or are you going to send everyone to bed without supper?" Those inclined to hear between the lines clearly heard the added _"because you're being pissy."_

The Headmaster's glare clearly communicated that Harry was in ocean-deep trouble but Harry didn't care. He watched dispassionately as the Headmaster stiffly returned to the head table and summoned dinner. Harry served himself and disregarded Madam Pomfrey when she levitated a still living Malfoy out of the hall. He completely ignored the gossiping student body and especially anybody that asked about his heritage or his confrontation with the Headmaster. And when dinner was over he calmly made his way to the tower and his bed despite the angry and hurt glares of Ron and Hermione. Curiously, Neville had sent him several sympathetic and supportive looks and Lavender and Parvati had casually filled the uncomfortable silence between the trio of friends with summertime gossip.

All in all, it was a very pleasant night.

--HPDM--

Albus Dumbledore sent sparks from his wand for a second time that night and said loudly, "Quiet!"

The gathered teachers quickly silenced their chatter and those still standing rapidly settled into empty seats.

"I'm certain everyone understands why we are here tonight. Does anybody have anything constructive to say?" Albus asked grimly.

Minerva McGonagall nodded and asked sharply, "Does anybody know anything about these _Veela Accords _that were mentioned tonight? Were we truly required to let the two boys conduct their so-called search? And was what Harry said factual?"

"I do."

Everyone turned to stare at Filius Flitwick, shocked that the normally exuberant and cheerful man could even speak in such a subdued tone.

The charms professor looked at his colleagues and continued in the same quiet voice, "When I was younger, I went through a phase when I was very passionate about my Goblin heritage and wanted to know everything there was to know about it. One of the things I read during that time was _The Goblin Contracts _of 1612. I was appalled to find them to be so blatantly unfair towards the Goblin nation that they barely deserve the label of contract and I wondered at the treaties that the Wizengamot held with other races. One of the treaties I read was _The Veela Accords, _which were made the same year after a failed attempt by the Wizengamot to conquer the Veela nation."

"Well?" Minerva said with some asperity.

"We were required to allow the search. And Mr. Potter is correct," Filius said with a sharp nod. "There is nothing we can do against him."

"He nearly killed Mr. Malfoy!" Minerva exclaimed angrily and several other teachers murmured their agreement.

"Mr. Malfoy had been warned away," Filius said grimly. "I heard Mr. Potter quite clearly and I was sitting at the other end of the hall."

"That's hardly relevant! The severity of Mr. Potter's response was uncalled for!" Aurora Sinistra banged the table with her fist in support of her statements.

"Only in wizard society," Filius said patiently. "According to Veela law, which we are required to follow, Mr. Potter was completely justified in his response, _especially _as he clearly warned away the approaching dominant."

"We can't have him going around harming the students!" Minerva exclaimed in dismay.

"As long as they leave him alone, there won't be any problems," Filius said with a shrug.

"Severus! Why are you just sitting there? It was your student that was nearly killed and you've always been against Mr. Potter in the past. Surely _you _don't think he should get away with this?" Aurora said angrily.

Severus looked up from the table and glared acidly at the astronomy professor. "Despite the lack of value some people may place on my life, I assure you I have no wish to be summarily executed."

There were several moments of silence before Albus questioned solemnly, "What do you mean, Severus?"

"Filius isn't the only one who has read _The Veela Accords_," Severus said grimly. "Interference of any kind in the courtships of Veela or half-Veela is met with harsh penalties, up to and including summary execution."

"Expelling him for nearly killing a student is hardly interference!" Aurora insisted loudly.

"It is," Filius said before Severus could reply. "Rejection of suitors is considered part of the courtships. Wizards are not allowed to punish a Veela or half-Veela in any way as long as they have acted within Veela law."

"And what about our laws?" Aurora asked angrily.

"They are completely irrelevant," Severus said coldly.

"What?" Aurora asked, most of the others mirroring her shocked expression. Albus had his hands steepled in front of his mouth and a very grim look on his face. Filius looked only thoughtful.

"Wizards must follow Veela law in regards to all full and half-Veela. Full Veela do not have to follow wizard law at all and half-Veela must follow wizard law _only when they are acting solely as a wizard._ Any other time, especially during courting, they are subject only to Veela law," Severus elaborated frostily. "I will not risk my neck speaking out against Mr. Potter's _completely legal _rejection of a suitor."

There was another uncomfortable silence before Pomona spoke up and asked hesitantly, "Can't we stop him from initiating courtships at all? Can't he wait until he leaves school?"

This time is was Filius that answered. "No. Once a submissive Veela, or half-Veela, which, as an x-male, is what Mr. Potter is, has awakened – generally, but not always, on their sixteenth birthday – they have a year, a year and a half at the most, before they must be mated. If not, they'll die."

"Surely the whole Veela mate thing is a myth!" Minerva said in surprise.

Filius shook his head. "Not entirely," he said. "It's a myth that there's a destined mate, but it isn't a myth that they _have _to mate. The submissives, that is. The dominants are all obliged to protect unmated submissives, but may mate whenever they wish."

"Well, then, why can't we just get him married off in the next few weeks and let it go at that?" Aurora asked in annoyance.

Severus snorted and said derisively, "Well, you're certainly welcome to present your choice of marriage partner to Mr. Potter if you'd like. However, I'd imagine that he'd report that to the Veela Council, at which point the Council would either simply execute you or send you to Azkaban for life for attempted murder."

Aurora, as well as many other teachers, blanched, but nevertheless protested, "That's a bit harsh."

"Not if you consider the situation from the Veela point of view," Filius denied. "The submissive cannot properly bond to a partner not of their choosing. If the submissive doesn't mate, they die. Therefore, interfering with the mating process is considered attempted murder and is treated as such."

"Can we make suggestions?" Albus asked into the resulting silence. "Or is that against these _Accords _as well?"

Filius nodded hesitantly. "It's not against the _Accords_, per se. You're certainly welcome to make suggestions. However, I highly doubt Mr. Potter would actually take those suggestions to heart. Veela are very picky about their mates and Mr. Potter, like any other submissive Veela, will want his prospective mates to prove themselves to him in one fashion or another."

"Then let's find a likely candidate, have them prove themselves, and be done with this nonsense!" Aurora suggested crossly.

Severus snorted but let Filius actually respond. "I don't know. I doubt that would work. It all depends upon what Mr. Potter has in mind for his tests of worthiness," Filius said doubtfully.

"Well, we could simply ask him," Minerva interjected logically before the astronomy professor could say something else biting.

"You could," Filius said with a shrug, "but he probably wouldn't tell you. The tests of worthiness are highly personal to each submissive Veela seeking a mate and usually aren't revealed until the tests have already been given and either passed or failed."

"Isn't there anything we can do at all?" Minerva asked worriedly.

"Don't interfere," Severus said with contempt.

"And what about the interference of the school?" Minerva protested.

"As long as Mr. Potter makes even a semi-reasonable effort to keep the disturbance of the school to a minimum, there is nothing to be done," Severus said unsympathetically.

"For instance," Filius said, finally regaining some cheer in his voice, "Mr. Potter has already stated that the reason he's giving an interview tomorrow morning is so that he can reduce the number of suitors."

"Should we allow the interview?" Irma Pince asked thoughtfully. "Would it be illegal to deny it? It's not as if we allow other students to schedule interviews, especially during class time."

As everyone had returned their attention to Filius, he answered slowly, "It wouldn't be illegal as, technically, it's not part of the courting. However, Mr. Potter will likely have a great number of suitors." Filius ignored the disgusted snort from Severus and continued, "If we forbid something that has the potential of limiting the number of suitors, like this interview, then it will be solely our fault if the disruption to the school is twice as bad as it might have been. I recommend we allow the interview to take place. It won't really hurt anything and it could end up being a great help."

Everyone turned their attention to the headmaster for his decision. Albus interlaced his fingers and lowered his hands to the table. "I think we may have to," he said with a serious expression. "If we don't allow it, especially now that he's announced his heritage and reasoning in front of the entire school, it will reflect very poorly on Hogwarts."

"What about the fact that he scheduled it for tomorrow morning during class?" Minerva asked.

"An excellent time," Severus said blandly.

Minerva sent Severus a glare and said, "Just because he'd be missing your class is no excuse to agree, Severus. I see no reason why he couldn't have scheduled the interview for after the last class of the day."

"I imagine that it is a timing issue," Albus said thoughtfully. "The article probably has to be finished by a particular time in order to be printed the following day."

"I can't imagine a single day will make all that much difference," Minerva said in annoyance.

Severus looked at her in disbelief, "Given the speed of gossip?"

Minerva grimaced and said, "And, besides, _The Quibbler_ isn't due out until the middle of the month."

"I wouldn't be surprised if this month's edition is printed early, or even an additional special edition is offered," Albus said diplomatically.

Minerva pursed her lips but offered no further protest.

"How do we know he won't simply use the interview as an excuse to skip classes?" Aurora asked, obviously still angry about the whole situation.

"I will stay in the Great Hall and watch," Albus said.

"What about when he starts responding to his mail?" Severus sneered. "Are you going to watch him then, too?"

"What do you mean, Severus?" Albus asked, resteepling his fingers.

Severus merely sneered and looked away, so Filius answered instead. "He'll be getting a lot of offers," Filius said cheerily, his persistently good mood obviously having returned fully. "He'll have to read and reply to all of them. Likely he'll be taking time from classes to do that as well. Nothing comes before courting to a Veela."

"Then we'll watch him then as well," Albus said decisively. "We may be restricted in what we are allowed to do, but I will not allow him to take advantage of the situation. Minerva, would you please arrange a schedule for all the staff to keep watch on Mr. Potter whenever he's not in class?"

"Of course, Albus," Minerva said with a nod.

"Also, I'd like everybody to watch Mr. Potter and report about his behavior. I want to be aware if his heritage causes any problems within the student body." When the teachers nodded, Albus continued, "I don't believe there is any more to discuss tonight, so I wish you all a good night."

As the teachers filed out, Albus leaned back in his chair and stared absently at the opposite wall. He was very concerned about this development. Very concerned. This was going to interfere with Harry's task in this war. How was he going to be able to concentrate on what he needed to do to defeat Voldemort if he was off involving himself in courtships?

There must be some way to make the boy see reason, to make him understand the necessity of completing these courtships as efficiently as possible so he could focus on the task at hand.

--HPDM--

Draco lay in bed in the hospital wing, thinking. He had, to the immense surprise of the school nurse, taken the news that he would be here all week quite gracefully. He hadn't said it, of course, but he was glad he was to be confined for so long. He had a lot to contemplate.

He had woken to the white of the infirmary and had taken a minute to remember why he was there. Once the memory had surfaced, in all its gory detail, Draco's mind had promptly shut down in shock and left him staring blankly at the ceiling. This was the state in which Pansy had found him and which she had unsympathetically smacked him out of. She had overridden his indignant protest with a sharp, "Shut up and pay attention. I don't want to miss breakfast." Shocked and, truthfully, somewhat cowed, he had done as bid and listened in growing disbelief as Pansy related the previous night's events and her opinion and advice in regards to said events.

He loved Pansy, he really did. She was a brilliant, _brilliant_ girl. She was smarter than him by far, though not as cunning, and had been his best friend as long as he could remember. She could ferret out information astonishingly rapidly and accurately and then present it efficiently along with other tidbits of relevance. Plus, she literally remembered _everything _– last night's confrontation between Potter and Dumbledore had been narrated verbatim. And her advice was usually spot on, too.

Which left him with a lot to contemplate.

The first order of business, according to Pansy, was Potter's behavior and what that meant in regards to the dark-haired boy's true intelligence, resources, personality, and, of no small concern, allegiances.

It was obvious that Harry Potter was, astonishingly, aware. Not only was he quite aware of exactly what he was – not just a half-Veela, but an _x-male_ half-Veela – but he appeared to also be quite aware of just what his rights were in regards to his particular station. This, in itself, gave Draco pause. Such things, Draco knew, were _not _taught at Hogwarts. In fact, such things were not even on the shelves of the Hogwarts library or even on the shelves of Flourish & Blotts. The Ministry really didn't like the fact that it was subject to a treaty in which wizards hadn't been the ones to dictate the terms and suppressed information about Veela whenever and wherever it could. So that meant…outside information. Where – or perhaps the better question was from whom – had the Golden Boy gotten his information?

It was also obvious that Harry Potter was not quite as enamored with Albus Dumbledore as everyone, including himself, had presumed. What Draco wasn't sure of, and he had spent rather a long bit of time thinking about it, was just when that attitude had manifested. While last spring's appalling incident at the Ministry – for which Potter blamed the headmaster and Snape, according to Pansy – may have been the catalyst, or the proverbial last straw, Draco rather thought that two months wasn't really enough time to foster the depth of coldness Pansy had reported in Potter's demeanor. Such true, _**dis**_passionate, disdain took time to develop. When – or perhaps again the better question was from whom – had the Golden Boy learned to so blatantly distrust the headmaster?

The last thing that was obvious, at least to those a bit in the know, was that Harry Potter had had _practice._ Young Veela did not simply shift in and out of bird form at will – it was _not, _despite popular belief, instinctive. Newly-matured Veela generally only shifted into and out of bird form when angry or relaxed, respectively. Also, Potter obviously had his allure under control as well. To shift _at will_ required anywhere from one hundred fifty to two hundred hours of concerted practice under the tutelage of another half- or full-Veela who had already accomplished at-will shifting, and the same was true for the control of the allure. And Potter not only lived with intolerant muggles during the summer but was guarded by Dumbledore's lackeys to boot. How – or perhaps _once again_ the better question was from whom – had the Golden Boy learned to shift at will and control his allure?

One thing was certain in Draco's mind: there was a lot more to the supposed _Golden Boy_ than met the eye.

Half a day's lazy contemplation led Draco to believe that Potter was a lot smarter and much more crafty than he let on. Potter also had at least one contact within the Veela community; a contact that was willing to spend the greater part of the month of August with a newly-matured half-Veela to teach at-will shifting and control of allure as quickly as possible. And lastly, Potter was not interested in servicing Dumbledore's whims. Draco was still certain that Potter wasn't interested in servicing the Dark Lord's whims, either. And, really, that was more than fine with Draco; Lucius, in all his pathetic, whiny glory, was the only Malfoy with that particular bent.

Which brought him to the second order of business laid out by Pansy: was he interested in pursuing a courtship of Potter, despite being almost fatally wounded by the tetchy submissive?

Yes, he decided. Yes.

From the first moment he'd seen Harry Potter while getting fitted for school robes he had been intrigued by the dark-haired boy, even if he hadn't known whom the boy was. While he knew now that his immediate and continued interest was almost certainly driven by submissive Veela pheromones, it was nonetheless true that Harry had become a challenge for him, a fact that had made him want the boy's attention all the more. When it had become obvious that he couldn't have the other boy as a friend, he had resolved to have him as an enemy, and he'd done well with that. But now… now he wanted the young man for more.

Harry Potter would make an excellent mate. He was powerful and would pass that power on to any children. He was handsome and would clean up nicely with some good clothes and a decent pair of glasses. He was smart and clever and would keep Draco's mind on its toes, so to speak. And… he was intriguing. Just the right amount of spice was added, what with Harry showing the world exactly who he _wasn't._

So he started plotting.

It would take some doing, he knew, but Draco was resolved that Harry would be his.


	2. Day One

A/N: Oh, my! My ego is purring away, let me tell you! So many reviews already! I hope I can live up to everyone's expectations. Like _Raspberry Jam_, this is a slow, soft story – with a couple of harsh bumps. I will be updating every day with one or two chapters. Um, what else. Oh, yes, there are no plans to gut Albus, sorry. (_Great_ mental image, though!) And, no, Dudley is not a half-Veela!! No! Vile! shudder

**Chapter 2 – Day One**

The student body glanced up when the Monday morning owls came with the post and then returned to eating. There were more owls than usual but not so many as to inspire neglect of breakfast. Several people, however, watched attentively as Harry Potter received four dozen or so pieces of mail. The watchers were disappointed when, instead of opening and reading the missives, the boy simply gathered all his letters calmly and placed them into a brown leather bag.

Despite his outward appearance, Harry was actually rather surprised. He hadn't expected to receive so many letters quite so quickly, but a quick perusal of the wax seals showed that a number of his schoolmates had been most efficient in getting the word out to their families. He wondered just how many he would receive tomorrow. He knew the interview he was giving today would start a deluge of courtship offers, but since it wouldn't be printed until tomorrow he hadn't expected any appreciable amount of mail until Wednesday. Now he wasn't so sure he would have that reprieve.

He picked up all the letters and put them in the second compartment of the bag that he had procured especially for this purpose. The bag was rather plain and an unremarkable medium brown, but he hadn't been looking for fancy when he'd purchased it. He had wanted something practical that would help him manage all the mail he knew he would be receiving and the multiple compartments designed specifically to hold papers, books, scrolls, writing implements, and other items useful for creating multiple files was exactly what was needed. The outermost compartment that could be used for holding larger objects and other purchases so that a second bag needn't be carried had been the cincher for him. The bag was technically called a scholar's purse (_Scholar's Purse Plus!_ - catering to _all_ your needs!) and was one of the most expensive models available because of the plethora of security and preservation spells that had been incorporated into the design as well as the "filing cabinet" functionality of the main compartment. Harry considered it fifty galleons well spent. He knew he was going to need it.

"Aren't you going to open them?" asked Hermione primly. "Don't you want to know why you're getting so much mail? It's not as if there's been an article in the paper recently."

Harry glanced at the young woman he didn't think would remain one of his best friends for much longer. He knew she was badly hurt by the fact that he hadn't confided his heritage to her and he didn't believe that she would ever understand just why he had kept his silence. She was going to be even more hurt when she found out that he had kept his silence for years and not just the last few days they had been together at Grimmauld Place. Her trust in authority was still absolute, as well, and she was appalled at his behavior towards the headmaster. One day she was going to berate him one too many times about having kept his heritage secret or about his unwillingness to trust the headmaster farther than he could throw a hippogriff or about the courting process itself and why he was willingly participating in it and when that happened… well, the frustration with her and the stress of an extended courtship was quite likely going to cause him to lay into her and rip strips out of her hide. It would be the beginning of the end of their close friendship. Still, he was going to delay that as long as possible.

Harry swallowed his bite of scrambled eggs and said, "The letters are probably all about the same thing – wanting to start a formal courtship with me. I'll open them all after breakfast, or, rather, after my interview with Mr. Lovegood, and respond to them then."

"A formal courtship?" Hermione said in surprise. "Why? Are you actually going to allow that? And what does that mean, exactly? What's involved?"

Ah, there was good old Hermione, forgetting her anger in the wake of new information. Harry smiled fondly and was about to reply when Ron interrupted.

"It means that everyone will be sending him fancy presents to get his attention," Ron said angrily.

Harry clenched his hand around his fork and resolutely kept the smile on his face. It seemed his prediction that the schism between him and Ron would start almost immediately was right. "It does mean that," he said mildly. "The type of presents they send me will help me determine whether or not they are worthy of my attention and, therefore, whether or not I'll be willing to actually meet with them. The presents can be fancy but actually don't have to be. Still, a crappy present will get a potential suitor summarily dismissed."

Hermione frowned at him. "That's awful, Harry. You can't judge someone based just on their wealth," she admonished him. "Just because someone can't buy you an expensive present doesn't mean they're unworthy."

"The presents don't have to be expensive, Hermione," Harry denied, "they just have to be nice and well-thought out. The most expensive potions book, for example, wouldn't be as attention-getting as a much less pricey subscription to _Quidditch Monthly_. After all, _I'm _the one they're trying to court, not Snape. Sending me something inappropriate just shows me that they aren't really interested in _me._ Understand?"

"Maybe," she said doubtfully. "But that still doesn't answer if you're actually going to participate."

"Of course I am," Harry replied, stabbing another bite of egg and placing it in his mouth.

"Why?" Hermione asked demandingly. "Formal courtship has to be restrictive. Why not date and find someone to marry the same way everyone else does?"

Harry twiddled his fork and thought about how to best answer without sounding defensive or hostile. Thankfully, someone else spoke up.

"Because he needs a mate soon," Neville said. "His Veela half will demand it."

Harry raised a surprised eyebrow in Neville's direction but nodded his agreement and took another bite of his eggs.

"Soon means what?" Hermione asked and then added suspiciously, "And I thought Veela had destined mates."

Both Harry and Neville snorted at that. Harry waved his fork and said, "A very false romantic notion spread by the masses."

Hermione narrowed her eyes in annoyance at Harry's reply and testily asked again, "Soon means what?"

Harry shrugged, "As soon as possible."

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed in frustration.

"A year," Neville said, looking apologetically at Harry. Harry smiled wryly and Neville relaxed.

"A year? You have to be married within a year?" Hermione exclaimed in horror.

Harry shrugged and continued eating. He had to leave soon and didn't want to waste much more time not eating.

"How can you just sit there!?" Hermione demanded. "Aren't you worried about finding the right person in such a short time?"

Ron chose this moment to once again interrupt with an angry comment. "Don't worry. He'll have plenty of people fawning over him. He'll have lots to choose from."

Harry once again resolutely kept his mouth shut. Just because Ron was right didn't mean the redhead had to say it in such a fashion. He listened for a couple minutes to the argument between Ron and Hermione before grabbing his bag, rising, and announcing stiffly, "I have to go meet Mr. Lovegood at the gates. I'll see you all later."

Harry ignored the protests and apologies behind him and made his way quickly to the front entrance and out into the cool morning. If he had stayed much longer he would have lost his temper. Damn Ron, anyway, for being such a jealous prat. Why couldn't he stop and think about the downsides of Harry's life for a change? Sure, he was going to have hundreds, probably thousands, of suitors all sending him nice presents, but that _also _meant he was going to have to _evaluate_ hundreds, probably thousands, of suitors and all those presents. He was going to have to read and respond to thousands of pieces of mail. He was going to have to meet with hundreds of people he didn't even know. His courtship was going to be highly public – privacy was going to be nonexistent. Plus, he _had_ to mate – he couldn't simply decide on a whim to stay single until some vague future time when he was "ready" for marriage. He wondered if Ron would ever grasp the realities of the situation Harry found himself in. He was jolted out of his bitter musings by a bright greeting.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter. How are you this fine morning?" Mr. Lovegood asked cheerily.

Harry smiled at the man, some of his frustration leaving him in the presence of such a positive personality. "I'm doing well, thank you. Yourself?"

"Oh, excellent, excellent. I must say I was quite surprised by the owl my daughter sent me last night," he said with a grin.

Harry relaxed even more and grinned back. "Gave you warning, did she? That's too bad. I wanted to shock you."

The man laughed. "Oh, you have. Have no fear of that. This certainly wasn't what I was expecting when you contacted me and asked for a special edition. I presume I'm here so I can write the truth of the matter?"

"Yes," Harry said. "My idea was to actually contract with your paper to provide some interviews during my courtship. I figure it will help us both – you to sell papers and me to get out what I'm looking for in a suitor and maybe get some of them to actually drop out." Harry turned partway and gestured towards the school questioningly.

"True, true," the man said, nodding his head thoughtfully and beginning the trek towards Hogwarts. "I can draw up a basic contract while I'm here. Nothing fancy, but it would give us both protection from other, less savory, ah, businesses."

"All right," Harry agreed, matching his pace to the older man's. "I want the interviews published word for word, though."

"Doable, doable. Tallies?" the man asked, already writing the contract in his head.

"Tallies?" Harry asked blankly, glancing at the man walking beside him.

"How many suitors you have at a given time," Mr. Lovegood said, waving a hand in the air. "Maybe a weekly flyer sort of thing."

"Oh," Harry said, disconcerted, and almost missed a step. "I suppose that would be all right. I'm not sure I like that idea so well, but I imagine it would help you sell a lot more papers, wouldn't it? Especially if I include a short statement with the count?"

"It would, yes, but we don't have to include that if it makes you too uncomfortable," Mr. Lovegood asserted.

"No, that's all right. It's not as if everyone won't be trying to figure that out, anyway. I might as well provide an official count," Harry said with a grimace.

"True enough," Mr. Lovegood said sympathetically.

"I'm not going to make comments about specifics, though," Harry said defiantly. "Nothing about the gifts or about why I reject anybody specifically."

"That's probably a good idea," the man agreed. "That way you won't have to worry about anybody trying to accuse you of slander."

Harry snorted. He didn't think it was very fair that he had to worry about slandering others when nobody seemed to worry about slandering _him_. As soon as he was mated he was going to put an abrupt stop to all that. For now, though, the gossipmongers would suit his purpose. After all, anybody who refrained from courting him based on their lies was one less suitor for him to have to deal with.

Harry and Mr. Lovegood waited outside the doors to the Great Hall and talked of inconsequential things until all the students had left for their first class. They then took a seat at one end of the Gryffindor table where a tea tray immediately appeared. Harry served both himself and Mr. Lovegood while the older man readied parchment and quill. Both of them ignored the presence of the headmaster at the head table.

Mr. Lovegood activated his dicta-quill and turned to his daughter's friend. "Well, Mr. Potter, it seems that you've sprung quite a surprise on the wizarding world!"

--HPDM--

The interview and the subsequent writing of the contract had taken much longer than Harry had anticipated. He had expected to be able to attend his second class of the morning but, instead, it hadn't been until halfway through said second class that he had escorted Mr. Lovegood back to Hogwarts' main gates. He was pleased with the interview, though, and was hopeful that it would help limit the number of suitors vying for his attentions.

Mr. Lovegood had promised to have the interview printed and distributed tomorrow in a special edition of _The Quibbler _and to send Harry several complimentary copies. Harry had warned the man to be prepared to have plenty of extra copies of the edition available and to be ready to send them all over the world. Mr. Lovegood had assured him, with a bit of a mischievous grin, that he would take care of all logistics and that there wouldn't be a single person who wanted a copy that wouldn't be able to get one. Harry idly wondered just what the man had planned.

The remainder of time before lunch Harry spent on the letters he had received that morning. This time he was under the watchful eye of Professor McGonagall, who had changed positions with the headmaster at the end of the first class period. After reading through all of them, Harry sighed in disgust. Only two of them were on behalf of males. Two!

Had he not stated outright that he was an _x-male_ half-Veela? Being an x-male half-Veela meant that it was his _X_ chromosome that was Veela, not the _Y _chromosome. His Veela half, therefore, had the _submissive _instincts from the Veela X chromosome and not the dominant instincts from the Veela Y chromosome. This, in turn, made him _highly inclined_ to desire a dominant male as a mate, that is, to be homosexual. And that meant…no women.

Obviously that conclusion took a few too many logical steps for the average sheep.

Harry attempted to wrench his thoughts from such a cynical path and told himself that it wasn't necessarily the fault of the letter writers to presume he would prefer a female mate instead of a male. It was quite possible that his schoolmates hadn't relayed the most important tidbit of information – that being that he was an x-male half-Veela – to their families. In addition, due to Ministry suppression (circumspect, of course), factual information about Veela and half-Veela was hard to come by in Britain and it was likely only those people directly affected were in the know. Honestly, Ministry supported ignorance was quite annoying.

Harry pulled out a stack of file folders from his bag and diligently filed each letter in a separate folder, labeling each one as he went with a number and a name. He then promptly turned forty-five of the folders red and addressed a pre-prepared "Thank you for your interest but I want a male" postcard to all the females. The pre-prepared "Thank you for your interest, please show up here" postcard was addressed to the two male suitors. He then placed all the folders in the main compartment of his bag in alphabetical order and packaged all the postcards together to take to Hedwig. She would deliver the package to a post service in Hogsmeade that had been hired to be responsible for handling all his outgoing mail this year.

Finished with his courting tasks for the day, Harry waited for his classmates to appear and for lunch to be served. He considered going up to the owlery now, but there really wasn't enough time to get there and back before lunch started and he was hungry.

As it turned out, he would have been better off skipping lunch and going to the owlery.

Lying in bed that evening Harry pondered over whether it would be feasible, or even possible, for him to take the remainder of his meals for the school year in the kitchen, as he had that evening's dinner. Hermione appeared to have gotten her second wind by lunchtime and had been all over him about keeping such an important secret when it was obvious he was going to need all the help he could get from his friends and the adults looking out for his welfare. He honestly didn't know how she could have been any more offensive and he reluctantly revised the probable date of their fallout from Christmas to Halloween. Ron had continued to be a jealous prat but had picked up steam and Harry had lost count of the number of snide comments that had been issued. He had kept his silence vindictively, knowing that saying nothing would piss off Ron even more than sniping back. The comments and speculations by other classmates had _not_ been beyond his hearing and he had walked out of lunch before it was half over.

The afternoon had been spent stiffly ignoring everybody that asked about his heritage or his confrontation with the headmaster the night before and, fed up, he had gone straight to the kitchens for dinner. All he could say was thank Merlin for house-elves.

The little beings had been utterly delighted with his company and had fed him until he could barely move. They had gone out of their way to prepare additional food for him that was more compatible with half-Veela physiology than the standard British fare regularly served at Hogwarts. The food had been _delicious _and he had stuffed himself as if he was a clone of Dudley. He'd have been ashamed of his excess except for the fact that his little companions had been ecstatic. He had never before felt so satiated after a meal in his entire life and the elves had promised him similar fare whenever he decided to come to the kitchens.

Reluctantly, he admitted to himself that he wouldn't be able to get away with always going to the kitchens – he needed to be present for the mail delivery at breakfast every morning, at the very least – but resolved to go once or twice a week. Maybe next time he would even ask for a take-away basket.


	3. Interview 1

A/N:Everything was supposed to be nicely indented here but...I tried fixing the html code but that didn't seem to work. I used (p style"text-indent:-.25in") which looked liked it worked when I clicked on "update" but then promptly disappeared when I clicked on "save." If anybody knows how to make the hanging indent work, please let me know.

**Chapter 3 – Interview 1**

_The Quibbler_, Tuesday, September 3, 1996

**SPECIAL EDITION!**

**Harry Potter a Veela!  
Read the exclusive interview with our very own Mr. Xenophilius Lovegood!**

_Mr. Harry Potter has agreed to a series of exclusive interviews with our respected paper upon the condition that our conversations were printed word for word. We here at __The Quibbler are more than happy to give Mr. Potter this assurance of our integrity. Below you will find our conversation that took place in Hogwarts' Great Hall on the morning of September 2nd._

LG:"Well, Mr. Potter, it seems that you've sprung quite a surprise on the wizarding world!"

HP:"Yes."

LG: "Well, can you tell us about it?"

HP:"I suppose. It's nothing odd, really. My mother was a half-Veela and she passed her Veela genes down to me."

LG:"But that is quite the surprise, Mr. Potter…"

HP:"Please call me Harry."

LG:"Of course. Thank you, Harry. As I was saying, it appears quite the surprise that Lily Potter was a Veela. Where did it come from? Did anybody actually know?"

HP:"Half-Veela and, well, she knew, obviously. My father also knew. Nobody else, I don't think. At least, not that I know of. As to where it came from, I'd like to keep quiet about that for now."

LG:"And how did you find out that your mother was half-Veela? Did you research it when you came into your own inheritance?"

HP:"No, I already knew. I've known since I was thirteen, almost fourteen. My mother left me her journals and she talks about it in there."

LG:"My goodness. You've kept your heritage a secret this whole time?"

HP:"Two years is hardly that long. And, yes, I kept it secret. It wasn't anybody's business but my own. At least, at the time. Now that I've reached my sexual maturity, it's quite the different story, isn't it?" (laugh)

LG:"Quite so. I apologize for any offense…"

HP:"It's all right. I know everyone's curious. It's just that my private life is supposed to be private, you know? It really bothers me sometimes when people think they have the right to know everything about me no matter what."

LG:"Well, yes, I can see that… So what does this mean for you and your future?"

HP:"Well, for my immediate future, it means that I'm seeking a mate. My long-term plans are still subject to change at this point."

LG:"Well, you're young yet so you've plenty of time to decide what to do with your life. I'm sure that quite a number people would like to know what thoughts you may have about your future goals but I understand that you granted this interview primarily so that you might get the word out about what it is you are looking for in a mate, so shall we start on that?"

HP:"Certainly, sir."

LG:"Well, let's start with the basics first. Are you looking for a man or a woman? Or do you care?"

HP:(snort) "Well, I am a _submissive _Veela, you know. An x-male. That means I'm looking for a man, obviously. So, all women are out."

LG:"Well, I'm sure that will dismay quite a number of people."

HP:"Probably. I imagine it'll interest a lot more, though."

LG:"Oh, of course, of course. Well, let's move on to something else easy. Are you interested in men of a particular age?"

HP:"I obviously want somebody who's old enough. So, I'm thinking…at least sixteen. I might accept someone who's fifteen since it'll be a year or so before we bond and they'll be sixteen by then. Anybody younger, though…"

LG:"So, nobody born after 1981, then?"

HP:"That sounds about right."

LG:"How about an upper age limit?"

HP:"I don't think I care so much about that, really. They have to be able to perform, though, if you know what I mean. I want children."

LG:"Ah, well, now, Harry…Did you know that the oldest wizard to sire a child was two hundred and six?"

HP:(choke) "No, I didn't know that! Well, I certainly don't want someone that old!"

LG:(laugh) "Maybe a wizard in his early hundreds, then?"

HP:"_No._ All right, all right, stop your laughing and help me out here!"

LG:(laugh) "Well, how about making it easy and saying no suitors born before 1950?"

HP:"1950? That would mean they would be, at most, thirty years older than me. That's actually a good idea, I think. A single generation gap is fine but two might be a bit much."

LG:"True. Well, that will still leave quite a number of potential suitors, I imagine."

HP:"Oh, I'm sure. One thing, though, they have to be healthy, no matter how young or old they are."

LG:"An athlete?"

HP:"No, not necessarily. I just don't want a fat or sickly mate."

LG:"Understandable. How about nationality? Are you looking for a British mate?"

HP:"I don't care if they're British or not."

LG:"European?"

HP:"Don't care."

LG:"You realize that there could be a lot of suitors from other countries if you don't limit the nationality?"

HP:"I understand, but I really don't have a regional preference – I'm actually rather interested in other cultures – and I don't think it would be fair to eliminate somebody based off something that I don't even care about. Although…"

LG:"Yes?"

HP:"They need to be able to speak English, and fluently at that. I do want to be able to communicate with my potential mate, after all. I'm not against learning another language eventually, but I don't want to have to do that until I'm mated."

LG:"That seems reasonable. May I presume a human wizard is acceptable? Or do you require them to have Veela heritage?"

HP:"I don't care. I don't require them to be human at all."

LG:"So you would accept a werewolf or a vampire or an elf? A high-elf, I mean, not a house-elf."

HP:(laugh) "Sure. Even a goblin."

LG:(gasp) "Harry, surely you're not serious?"

HP:"I am. I'll say that I want them humanoid, though. I have great respect for centaurs and mer-people and such, but, well…"

LG:"Yes, yes, yes. Of course, of course. Well…well…"

HP:(laugh) "Anyone who knows me knows that I am not prejudiced against any magical beings. I will admit, however, that I wouldn't likely choose a goblin. I'd like somebody around my height and all the goblins I've seen have been much shorter."

LG:(throat clearing) "Yes, well, perfectly understandable. Perfectly."

HP:(laugh)

LG:"Ah…Hair or eye color?"

HP:(laugh) "No."

LG:"Right, then. Shall we get on to the more difficult items?"

HP:"Sure. What've you got?"

LG:"Do you have any specific personality traits you're looking for?"

HP:"I'd like them to be independent and able to think for themselves."

LG:"Good traits, certainly."

HP:"And a good sense of humor."

LG:"Ah, now, Harry, what is considered a good sense of humor or not can vary widely. Could you be more specific?"

HP:"Well, I like a dry wit. Somebody who can appreciate the ironies of life. I don't appreciate slapstick humor or the type of humor that makes fun of other people."

LG:"What about intelligence?"

HP:"They don't need to be a genius or anything, but I do want to be able to hold intellectual conversations. As I said before, I want them to be able to think for themselves. That means they have to be able to figure things out on their own and form their own opinions. I don't want somebody that just thinks whatever they are told to think, that follows propaganda like a sheep. They'd have to be moderately well educated, I imagine."

LG:"And what do you mean by that, Harry? A graduate from a magical school like Hogwarts? Or even higher education?

HP:"Well, like Hogwarts, I should think, at the very least. Someone who could pass something like the N.E.W.T.s even if they never did go to a so-called real school. I want to do further study after Hogwarts, too, but not necessarily formalized, and I'd like my mate to be able to keep up with me. I want them to be interested in learning, too. I don't want someone who's smart but was content to just lay back and only do what was necessary to pass."

LG:"So you would like someone with a somewhat driven personality?"

HP:"Not necessarily. I mean, I don't want someone who's lazy but I don't want someone who's only focused on a single objective, either. Something in the middle."

LG: "Of course. How about analytical? Gregarious? Intuitive? Neat? Active? Mysti…"

HP:"Stop, stop!" sigh "Look, I don't know about all that. I don't know just exactly what kind of personality would be best for my mate. I get along with all types of people. I have one friend who loves books and another that loves quidditch. One friend that loves plants and one that loves creatures. So I just don't know. What I do know is that I want them to be able to _think for themselves_. I don't want a mate that idolizes and blindly obeys _anybody_. Not me and not some political figure. I don't want a mate that believes everything they hear or read without even bothering to try and figure out the truth. That's what I know."

LG:"Well…I'm sure you'll find someone like that."

HP:"I'm sure. I imagine I'll have plenty to choose from. I also know that I want them to not be prejudiced against other magical beings and that includes muggle-borns."

LG:"So you're not looking for a pureblood, then."

HP:"I didn't say that. In fact, I think I might end up with a pureblood, if only because I definitely want to live within magical society. I have no interest at all in living in a muggle area. It's not like pureblood is synonymous with prejudice, you know, and muggle-born isn't synonymous with tolerance. There are both kinds of people in both camps."

LG:"That's a very enlightened view."

HP:"Whatever."

LG:"How about hobbies?"

HP:"Hobbies?"

LG:"Yes. Something a bit more innocuous."

HP:"Um, well, after I graduate, I'd like to travel the world. So, you know, my mate would have to be somebody willing to do that. They can't keep me on their estate all the time, I won't stand for it."

LG:"What about when you have children?"

HP:"They come along."

LG:"Any other hobbies you want to pick up?"

HP:(laugh) "Probably eventually, but nothing I can think of right now. Oh, they have to realize that I'm a flyer. I'm not giving up my broom. They don't have to fly with me but they better not even think of demanding that I stop…"


	4. Genetics

A/N: This chapter should help all those curious about just how Harry is half-Veela - or maybe it'll just bore you with the technicalities...(grin) Hmmm, yes, Sirius is still dead in this fic. I hadn't planned on getting into that, really, or anything else about OotP, but perhaps I should. I'll think about it and see if there's anywhere it might fit.

**Chapter 4 – Genetics**

Tuesday morning saw nearly two hundred envelopes dropped on or near his plate. Harry sighed and went about the task of collecting them and placing them in his bag, gratefully accepting the help of his nearby housemates.

He staunchly ignored all the students frantically buying copies of _The Daily Prophet,_ though he did find it amusing that those same students were also vying for the attention of the dozen or so owls that were carrying a package proudly blinking _**Harry Potter a Veela! Exclusive Interview! **_A bit of experimentation by the student body found that placing two sickles in the pouch on the owl's left leg would cause a miniaturized copy of _The Quibbler _to fall out of the box on the owl's right leg. An ingenious idea, Harry thought, taking a similarly blinking package off the owl that had landed in front of him.

True to his word, Mr. Lovegood had sent him a dozen copies of his own. Harry didn't know what he was going to do with all of them but was grateful for the thought nonetheless. He quickly flipped through the article and noted that Mr. Lovegood had kept his word about the contents and formatting as well, not that he had expected otherwise.

The sidelong glances and whispers started almost immediately. It was dead annoying but Harry had expected it and ignored them in favor of his breakfast.

"Good show, Harry," Neville said softly after reading the first column of _The Quibbler_. "That should take care of a lot of suitors. I imagine you'll still get a bunch of women, though, thinking that they can change your mind."

Harry turned towards Neville and replied to the only sensible comment he had heard yet in regards to the situation, "Probably, Neville. They're going to be awfully disappointed, though."

Neville nodded and said, "Good luck," then went back to eating his breakfast and reading the article.

"Thanks, Neville," Harry said sincerely and did the same. He managed to get halfway through his breakfast before the first question came.

"Why are you looking for a man, Harry?" Hermione asked once she was done with the article. "I thought you wanted your own children. You even say so in the interview. Are you planning on adopting?"

"No. I'll have my own children," Harry said and stuffed a large bite of pancake into his mouth. He was going to get as much food down as he could before he had to explain the whole I-can-have-my-own-babies scenario.

"A surrogate, then?" Hermione asked in confusion. "I wouldn't think that many wizards would be happy with that, especially since the child wouldn't be theirs."

"No, Hermione," Harry said. "I'm capable of carrying my own children as sired by my mate." He managed to hurriedly stuff two large bites of pancake into his mouth during the resulting stunned silence.

"_What!?"_ Hermione finally managed to exclaim then added crossly, "Don't be ridiculous, Harry. That's impossible! Boys can't get pregnant! Not even in the wizarding world."

"True," Harry said with a shrug and shoveled a mass of eggs into his mouth.

"Then what do you plan on doing? And don't give me that line again about carrying your own children! I want a real answer," Hermione demanded in frustration.

Harry shrugged and chewed his eggs.

"He really can have his own babies, Hermione," Neville said quietly. "His Veela half is a girl."

"What!? What are you talking about? What do you mean his Veela half is a girl?" Hermione asked, her voice becoming more strident with each question and quickly attracting the attention of surrounding students.

Neville winced and looked away and Harry continued eating as if it was his last meal of the week. Hermione yanked the plate away from Harry and demanded, "What is going on? I want an explanation! You owe me that much."

Harry scowled and grabbed back his plate. "I don't owe you anything, Hermione. If you're so damned curious about my private life you can at least be polite about it and wait until I finish my bloody breakfast!"

Hermione jerked back as if slapped and pressed her lips into a thin line. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth but then snapped it shut again and remained silent. She ate her own breakfast but kept Harry under a constant glare. Harry quickly finished and pushed his plate away.

"Now, if you ask your questions civilly, I just might answer," Harry said, glad that Ron had chosen that morning to sit four seats over and stubbornly ignore him. At least he would only have to deal with Hermione's questions instead of Hermione's questions coupled with Ron's jealous belligerence.

"Fine," Hermione bit out. "How can you possibly have your own babies? Even you agreed that boys can't get pregnant."

Harry sighed and crossed his arms on the table and leaned forward. "It's like Neville said. My Veela half is a girl. It's that half, not the human boy half, that can get pregnant."

"That doesn't make any sense!" Hermione declared hotly. "And, besides, you're not even half-Veela, anyway."

Harry _and_ Neville raised their eyebrows at this. "I assure you, Hermione, that I am definitely half-Veela," Harry affirmed mildly.

Hermione shook her head mulishly. "No, Harry. You said during the feast and again in this article," she tapped _The Quibbler_ sharply, "that your mother was half-Veela. That means that you're only quarter-Veela."

Neville simply stared at Hermione in disbelief before looking to Harry. "You know how to explain this, Harry?"

Harry nodded.

"Good," Neville sighed out, "because I've no clue where to start."

Harry opened his mouth but Hermione interrupted, "Look, that's not important at the moment. I want to know how you can supposedly get pregnant."

"They're related, Hermione," Harry said dryly, actually starting to enjoy having one up on the walking trivia bank.

"Well," Hermione said, exasperated, "How?"

Harry worried his lip a moment in thought then asked, "How much do you know about genetics?"

"Enough to know you're only a quarter Veela," she said, calming slightly now that it appeared Harry was going to answer her questions.

"I don't know anything," Lavender said from two seats over, then blushed when everyone turned to her in surprise. "At least, not very much."

Harry grinned at her and said, "OK. Basics it is then." He pulled out his wand and conjured some lemons. Another twist and wave brought forth some limes.

"Why are you conjuring citrus, Harry," Neville asked in amusement, eyeing the fruit now adorning an empty pancake platter.

"Teaching aids," Harry said primly, drawing a small smile from Neville and a huff from Hermione. He turned towards Lavender, finding it easier to focus on one person than on the many that were actually watching him, "Okay, Lav. Imagine that the lemons," he said, tapping the appropriate fruit, "are human and that the limes are Veela."

Lavender looked at him doubtfully but said agreeably, "All right, Harry."

"Now," Harry said, and picked up a couple of lemons, "You know that you get half of what you are from your mum and half from your dad, right?"

Lavender nodded and Harry noted that Hermione was paying strict attention as well. Harry placed the two lemons back on the platter, grabbed a knife, and proceeded to cut the lemons in half horizontally. He then switched the top halves of the fruit and once again picked them up. Holding them out, he said, "So, half mum and half dad can make two different wholes, yes?"

Lavender studied the lemons for a moment and then nodded, "Yes."

"You have a little sister, right?" Harry asked.

"Yes, she'll start school next year," Lavender answered, a mystified expression on her face at the apparent non sequitur.

"Does she look like you?" Harry asked, tilting the lemons so the juice didn't dribble onto his hands.

"Somewhat," Lavender admitted. "She has darker hair, though, and her eyes are like our dad's instead of our mum's."

Harry nodded and set down the cut lemons and pulled over a couple more whole ones. Two more slices, this time vertically, and another bout of switching, and Harry held up two more half and half lemons. "Your sister looks different than you because she got different halves than you did."

At Lavender's confused expression Harry put down one of the lemon sets and picked up one of the previous ones. Waving the horizontally cut lemon set, he said, "This is you." Waving the vertically cut lemon set, he said, "This is your sister." He held the lemons out closer to Lavender and said, "You are both half your mum and half your dad, but you're _different_. You both got different halves from each of your parents. Understand?"

"I think so," Lavender said with a slow nod. "That's why siblings all look different, right? Because they all have different halves?"

Harry grinned at the girl, making her blush again, and said, "Exactly."

"And the limes? I mean, the Veela?" she asked hesitantly.

"It's the same thing for Veela," Harry said and proceeded to cut and switch four limes the same as he had the lemons.

"What's this have to do with you having babies, Harry?" Hermione asked warily, looking askance at the fruit pieces on the table.

"Ah, ah. Patience," Harry said teasingly.

Everybody that was following the conversation, officially or not, watched quietly as Harry rearranged all the cut fruits into eight lemon-lime pairs. "Now," Harry said, fully aware of his audience, "human and Veela are compatible species and can have half-human half-Veela children." He waved his hand over the lemon-lime pairs and asked, "Following so far?"

Nods and yeses answered his query.

"However,"Harry said, picking up a lemon-lime pair, "halfling genetics does _not_ work the same way. When a half-Veela goes to have their own children, they can't pass on different halves of themselves to different children. They can only pass on _either _the human half _or_ the Veela half. They can't pass on bits of human mixed with bits of Veela. The chromosome pairs can only split one way." He demonstrated his explanation by pulling apart the lemon-lime pair in his hand then putting it back together.

There was a short silence before Hermione asked quizzically, "You mean there's no crossing over during meiosis?"

Harry quirked his lips to one side in amusement. Count on Hermione to understand his fruit analogy. "Yes, Hermione, that's exactly what I mean," Harry answered and put down the lemon-lime. "There's no interchanging of genes between the Veela and human chromosomes when making the reproductive cells."

"So that's why you're half-Veela," Hermione said bemusedly. "It's all or nothing. Your mother could only have given either all of her Veela genes or none of them. And you got all of them."

"Right," Harry said proudly.

"Then, if you'd had a brother, he would have been identical, right? A twin of you, just younger," Lavender said, slowly puzzling out the implications.

Hermione shook her head. "No, because the part from Harry's father would have been different."

"Oh, right," Lavender said, a slightly embarrassed look on her face.

"She's got a point, though, Harry. If your father had been half-Veela then any brothers would have been identical, just younger," Hermione said.

"Well…," Harry said and glanced at Neville who just looked at him and shrugged. Neither of them really wanted to get into the complexities of magical manifestation as related to the genetics of magical beings, including wizards.

"Then you can't mate with another half-Veela," Hermione said decisively.

"What?" Harry asked, confused as to where that conclusion had come from. "What makes you think that?"

"You wouldn't have genetic diversity in your children. You said in the interview that you want at least six kids, hopefully three girls and three boys. All the boys would be the same and all the girls would be the same. It would be like…," Hermione waved her arms about in mild agitation, "like having two sets of triplets!"

Harry smirked at Hermione's agitation and said wryly, "Well, aside from the fact that triplets are not a bad thing, and aside from the fact that there would actually be two types of boys, I really think a world of six billion people can handle me not contributing to the diversity of the gene pool."

Hermione flushed a bit and muttered, "I suppose so."

"Why would there be two types of boys?" Lavender asked quickly into the silence.

Harry turned to her. He didn't mind answering her questions; they were undemanding and he could tell they were from genuine curiosity. "Do you know why, genetically, a girl is a girl and a boy is a boy?"

"Girls are XX and boys are XY," she said proudly, nodding her head at the certainty of her knowledge.

"Right," Harry said, smiling slightly. "The boy could have my X chromosome and the sire's Y or my Y and the sire's X. Two different types of boys. See? One fully Veela and one fully human. If my mate was a half-Veela, that is."

"What if your mate was full human or full Veela?" Lavender asked in confusion. "What kind of children would you have then?"

Harry answered her but wasn't sure if the explanation would actually be more confusing. "If my mate was full human or full Veela then all the children would all be different genetically because the father could give different halves. With a human, our children would be vXhX, vXhY, and hXhY or, in other words, we would have half-Veela girls, x-male boys, and full human boys. With a full Veela, our children would be vXvX, vXvY, and vXhY or full Veela girls, full Veela boys, and x-male boys. With a half-Veela mate, like Hermione is worried about, the children would only have three genetic possibilities and they would be vXhX, vXvY, and hXhY or half-Veela girls, full Veela boys, and full human boys."

"What about YYs?" Lavender asked curiously. "It would be possible, wouldn't it, with two boys?"

"Maybe theoretically," Harry admitted, "But is just never happens. It's not a viable combination."

Lavender nodded but was obviously still a bit confused and opened her mouth to ask another question when she was beaten by Hermione. "And how does this relate to you having babies?"

Harry turned back to face his persistent friend. "All right, Hermione. Sheesh. You're like a dog with a bone. Hold on a moment." Harry banished the fruit and thought about how to answer in the most succinct way possible. "It's like Lav said. A boy is XY. In other words, the part that makes a baby become a boy is having a Y chromosome. If the baby doesn't have a Y chromosome, it becomes a girl."

"Yes, Harry," Hermione said impatiently.

Harry gave a quelling look and Hermione subsided.

"Usually, not having a Y chromosome means you have a second X. But in half-Veela, that's not quite how it works," Harry continued. "You see, my human half has a Y, which makes me a human boy, but my Veela half doesn't have a Y, which makes me a Veela girl. Make sense so far?"

"Not really," Hermione reluctantly admitted.

Harry frowned and said, "Let me try again, then. Like I said before, Veela and human are compatible but not interchangeable. In humans, the genes on one chromosome cancel out, or counter, or modulate, or whatever, the corresponding genes on the opposite chromosome. That's how boys happen. The Y chromosome counters some of the genes on the X chromosome, making a boy develop. But in halflings, things are a little different. Enough genes are countered by a human Y so that the baby looks like a human boy but the genes that specify a Veela girl are left uncountered on the Veela X, which is larger than a human X, and so a Veela girl develops, too."

"You're a hermaphrodite, then?" Hermione asked thoughtfully.

"Not exactly," Harry said, ruffling his hair. "I am completely male inasmuch as I have all the appropriate bits and could even sire children. However, I am also completely female. I have all of _those_ bits. _But,_" Harry said, overriding whatever Hermione was about to say, "those bits are Veela in nature only."

"They're different?" Hermione asked in shock.

"Yes and no," Harry said slowly. "Magic did some screwy things when she made Veela. Just suffice it to say that I can get pregnant because of it."

Hermione stared at him blankly for a moment then adopted a thoughtful expression.

Lavender seized the opportunity to ask her own question. "So will you have breasts?" she asked, holding cupped hands in front of her own bosom to graphically illustrate her query.

"No!" Harry said with a horrified grimace. "Thankfully, those particular genes are some of the ones blocked by the Y chromosome."

Lavender clucked her tongue and said, "That's too bad. You won't know what it's like to feed your own babies, then."

Harry's face twitched and he wanted so badly to say something snide, but Lavender sounded so sincerely sad for him that he just couldn't. "That all right, Lav. I'm sure I'll be able to bond with the babies in some other way."

There was a short silence as people shook their heads in disbelief at Lavender's blunt question and subsequent statements. Hermione cleared her throat and attention was turned to her.

Hermione's cheeks were a bit pink when she asked, "What would have happened if you had had the Veela Y chromosome instead of the X?"

"Then I would be like Malfoy or Conway," Harry replied easily. "I would be a y-male half-Veela and would look for a mate the same way as anybody else."

"Are they going to be after you now?" Hermione asked in concern.

Neville snorted then flushed slightly when everyone looked at him. "It's not real likely," he said. "Harry gutted Malfoy for simply touching him. I doubt if he'll be trying to woo Harry now and Conway was scared spitless at the sight. My guess is that both of them will stay as far from Harry as they can."

Harry shrugged. "Two less suitors for me to deal with."

"That's cold, Harry," Hermione said disapprovingly. "You almost killed Malfoy. He may be a prat but he hardly deserved what you did to him."

Harry stiffened in offense and was about to issue a scathing rejoinder when Neville once again spoke up. "He deserved it, Hermione," he said firmly. "He was clearly warned off and he refused to heed that warning. Any full Veela, or even a Veela-raised halfling, would have immediately backed off. Veela girls are notoriously touchy, especially when seeking a mate, and the x-males are even worse. His own arrogance is at fault, not Harry. Malfoy should be glad he's not dead. He would have been if Madam Pomfrey hadn't been in the Great Hall for the feast."

Hermione opened her mouth to obviously issue a retort but was overridden as Neville once again interjected firmly, "He deserved it. It's his own fault. Leave Harry alone about it."

Harry knew right then that Neville would quite likely become a good, if not best, friend. It hadn't even been a week and already Neville was proving a better friend over the whole situation than either Ron or Hermione.

"We can talk about it later," Hermione said disapprovingly. "Right now we need to get to class."

Getting up, Hermione turned to him and said impatiently, "Well, aren't you coming?"

Harry shook his head. "No, Hermione. I'm going to stay here and take care of my mail. When I'm done I'll head to whatever my next class is."

"You can't just skip class to read mail, Harry!" Hermione said, appalled that he had even thought of such a thing.

Harry scowled and said, "I'm not _skipping class_, Hermione. I'm taking care of my courting tasks. It's my right and it's not like I'm being irresponsible."

"The teachers…" Hermione started only to be interrupted once again by Neville.

"Have _nothing_ to say about it, Hermione," Neville said firmly. "They have _no_ right to interfere in Harry doing what he needs to do to manage his suitors. I'm sure Harry will do all he can in regards to attending classes and doing homework."

"Neville's right, Hermione," Harry said, anger coloring his tone. "I'll do what I can, but everything having to do with school comes _second._ If I wasn't me, this wouldn't be such a big deal. I wouldn't have hardly so many suitors. But I am me and so everybody wants in on the action. I'm going to do whatever I need to and the teachers can go kiss the squid, for all I care."

"Harry…"

"_No, _Hermione. Just go to class. I'll see you later," Harry said tightly.

Hermione glared but turned and walked away without another word. Neville gave him a sympathetic look before following suit.

Harry sighed and waited for the students in his immediate area to leave. He was aware of, but ignored, the headmaster's likely-to-be-daily scrutiny as he cleared a spot on the table and arranged various stacks around him. A few minutes later the table was magically cleared and a tea tray appeared beside him. The next three hours were spent reading letters, addressing postcards, evaluating gifts, filing folders, and drinking tea.

The composition of letters today was not much better than yesterday. Out of one hundred ninety-three letters, only seventeen were from males. Still, it _was_ a better percentage. Eight of those males had sent small presents, all of which Harry had evaluated and noted in the file of said suitor before placing into the shopping compartment of his bag. Ninety-six of the females had also sent gifts, which he noted in the files but did not spend the time to open, much less evaluate. He'd look at those presents later when he had some spare time, Christmas maybe.

He had written a special postcard to those who had sent gifts, to thank them, before continuing on to say "not interested" or "show up here." Hermione would likely be appalled, but it would have been insulting to return the gifts from the females, even though they were not going to even be considered.

He finished his responses and bundled them up and cast a featherweight charm on the lot. Ignoring Professor Sinistra's watchful eyes, he put away his various piles and rose from his seat to make the trip to the owlery. He made it to and from the owlery with just a few minutes to spare before the start of lunch. Cynically, he wondered if he should once again go to the kitchens, but decided to simply tough it out.

People would have to stop bothering him eventually, right?

--HPDM--

"Albus, do you know anything about these journals that Harry mentions?" Minerva asked with a puzzled expression after she had finished reading the article from that morning's special edition of _The Quibbler._

"No," Albus replied with a shake of his head. "Godric's Hollow was destroyed. I would have presumed any journals Lily may have written would have been destroyed with it. Were you aware that she kept journals?"

Minerva closed her eyes in thought, trying to remember. "I believe I may recall her writing in a journal but don't really recall much…no, wait. I remember in her sixth year that she was almost always writing." She opened her eyes and regarded the headmaster solemnly. "At the time, I thought it was simply related to the research project she was doing, but perhaps it wasn't."

Albus nodded thoughtfully. "She would have turned sixteen that prior summer, just like Harry did. She may have been doing research into her heritage. I wonder where she would have gone for information."

"James," Minerva said confidently.

"You think so?" Albus asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Absolutely," Minerva replied.

"Why so?" Albus asked and lifted the teapot from his desk in Minerva's direction and refilled her cup as well as his own at her nod.

"Remember that James' aunt was Dorea Black who was half-Veela. It's quite likely that James had access to factual information about Veela and offered it to the woman he was enamored with." Minerva sipped her tea and kept her silence while the headmaster evaluated her words.

"Why would he offer her that information?" Albus finally asked, sipping his own tea.

Minerva shrugged. "Who knows? Perhaps he encountered her in the library one night or peeked at her personal notes. Maybe she even asked around and he replied. It's possible Harry knows the truth, if Lily wrote about what happened in her journal."

"Yes, those journals," Albus said thoughtfully. "Your theory doesn't explain why nobody knew Lily was half-Veela, though. When she returned for sixth year, she should have had all the boys fawning over her."

"She _did _have all the boys fawning over her, Albus. Surely you remember that deplorable incident at Halloween?" Minerva said disapprovingly.

Albus blinked and thought back. "Yes, I remember," he answered slowly. "I thought it was no more than regular schoolboy antics trying to catch the attention of a pretty girl."

"It was," Minerva agreed. "We just didn't presume that there was actually more to it. It's not as if Hogwarts hosts many half-Veela students; they almost always go to Beauxbaton instead."

"Perhaps you are right," Albus said mildly. "Those things stopped happening, though, so she must have learned to control her allure to some extent."

Minerva pursed her lips and said in annoyance, "Yes, I imagine so. Just like Harry has. I'd like to know who taught him."

Albus picked up a biscuit and turned it over in his fingers. "You think that somebody tutored him? That Harry didn't learn to control it by himself? Nobody was at Privet Drive that wasn't supposed to be there, I assure you."

Minerva sighed. "I don't know, Albus. Maybe he did. There's just so much we don't know about this situation and I'm hesitant to approach Harry and ask."

"Maybe Lily left instructions in her journals," Albus suggested.

"Maybe," Minerva said with a shrug and followed Albus' example and picked up a biscuit to fiddle with.

"Which brings us to the question of just where he got them," Albus said and took a bite of his biscuit.

"Perhaps Sirius had them. The timing is right. Harry did say in the interview that he knew about his heritage since he was thirteen, almost fourteen," Minerva said, continuing to fiddle with her biscuit instead of eating it.

"That's a reasonable presumption," Albus agreed. "I wonder why Sirius never said anything about it."

"Probably because it wasn't any of our business," Minerva said a touch archly.

Albus sighed and said, "Perhaps so. Sirius always was a private person, despite being so gregarious. I wouldn't be surprised if he gave them to Harry with the suggestion that Harry not mention them to anyone. Do you think Sirius may have given other things to Harry?"

Minerva finally took a bite of her biscuit and then a sip of her tea before replying. "I wouldn't be surprised if he did. I often got the impression that Sirius felt he was living on limited time. That type of attitude encourages a person to do whatever they feel needs to be done in as timely a manner as possible."

Albus furrowed his brows but nodded a moment later. "Perhaps so. I would appreciate it if you could try approaching Harry. Any clarification you could get would be helpful."

"I'll try, Albus," Minerva agreed, "but I don't guarantee anything. Mr. Potter hardly seems in a cooperative mood of late."

Some time later after Minerva had left, Albus drank the last of the tea and considered the situation. It was clear that he should have kept a better eye on both Sirius Black and Harry Potter's mail. Whatever was in those journals was obviously what was causing Harry to pursue this current rebellious path. If he'd had a chance to read the journals first he could have been prepared to deal with their contents and how they might affect Harry. If absolutely necessary, he could even have copied them and edited out any undesirable pieces, or simply not passed them to Harry at all. If he had been forewarned about the situation he could have learned what was necessary and guided Harry in his heritage, and very likely his choice of mate. Perhaps Charlie Weasley would have worked well; he was firmly on the side of light and would have treated Harry kindly. He didn't want the boy unhappy, necessarily, but it was absolutely imperative that Harry not be distracted from the task at hand.

There was much too much at risk to let Harry simply do as he pleased.

--HPDM--

Draco finished reading the interview, which, after the comment about flying, had included another four pages talking about Harry's favorite classes, some of his political beliefs, and his wishes for a big family and ended with a statement that all suitors had to declare their interest no later than Thursday, October 17. The interview only made him that much more determined to win the hand of this young man that he had never known.

He didn't know how many people were going to be able to read between the lines, but he certainly could. He knew that what Harry had said about a potential mate thinking for themselves and not idolizing anybody actually referred to not only the Dark Lord, but also to Albus Dumbledore and the Minister of Magic. He could also see that Harry was not pleased with the Headmaster's and Ministry's hold on his life and was going to be using the courting to get away. It was obvious to him that opening the courting to all nationalities and all creatures, as well as outright stating his interest in other cultures, was a deliberate act on Harry's part to get out of Britain.

Draco had, of course, also read the article in _The Daily Prophet_. The contrast was astronomical but hardly astonishing. The full front-page article had about six correct facts in it that a reader would probably only catch if they had already known them. Mostly, the article was a mish-mash of prior articles about Harry Potter, a bunch of sensationalizing about Harry attacking an "unarmed and perfectly harmless student who was trying to help," and romanticizing about Veelas and their mates.

He tossed the paper aside and relaxed back against his infirmary pillows and continued plotting out his courtship of one _very_ intriguing Harry Potter. Despite their bad history, and the fact that Harry had gutted him, Draco felt that he actually had a more than reasonable chance of winning the hand of the submissive. They may not be friends, far from it, but he knew Harry quite well anyway. Oh, it had become obvious that a number of traits were missing from Draco's personal profile of Harry, and some were outright wrong, but a good deal of said profile had actually been confirmed by the interview. Plus, he was _here _and would be able to gauge Harry's reactions to the various gifts that he would receive and adjust his own gifts accordingly. Not that he thought his gifts would need adjusting. And lastly, Draco was quite capable of getting Harry out of the country, right under the noses of Dumbledore and the Ministry, if need be.

He fell asleep fantasizing about little blond-haired children.


	5. Explanations

A/N: Cecil Bruner is a type of rose. My mother-in-law's bush is 15 feet high by 30 feet wide by about 10 feet deep. No lie. It's absolutely gorgeous when in full bloom with hundreds of little pink roses all over it.

**Chapter 5 – Explanations**

Wednesday dawned bright and much too early in Harry's opinion. Today was _The Day. _The day he would really start receiving courtship offers. He wanted to stay in bed.

Eventually, his curtains were swept aside by a fully-dressed Neville. "Come on, Harry. Up and at 'em!"

Harry scowled and said sulkily, "Why are you so disgustingly cheerful today?"

Neville grinned and said, "Because I don't have thousands of pieces of mail to look forward to. I just have to help collect them."

Harry just glowered darkly and didn't move.

Neville tugged teasingly on the covers and said, "Come on, Harry. You might as well receive all your letters in the Great Hall instead of the dorm. At least then we can help you gather them all."

Harry groaned but got up and headed to the shower. The sad thing was, he knew he _would_ be getting thousands of pieces of mail, probably not all today, but still…

Thankfully, the shower renewed his courage. He was ready for this. He had a plan. A well-thought out plan that would get him through all the suitors in record time. Hopefully.

He got dressed and walked to breakfast with Neville, making more and more outlandish bets with the other boy about how many letters he would receive today. Harry finally conceded defeat when Neville bet Malfoy's blonde hair that five hundred letters would come from the deserts of Africa carried on the back of a wild purple hippogriff. Although, it wasn't so much that he _conceded_ defeat as that he was laughing too hard to think of a comeback. It wasn't _that _funny, it wasn't really funny at all, but you find the oddest things hysterical when you're stressed. Their verbal play had the effect of distracting him and reducing his nervousness, which, he was certain, had been Neville's plan all along. Harry was thankful once again for the quiet boy's friendship.

Breakfast was a tense affair with the entire school waiting to see just how much mail Harry Potter would receive today because of yesterday's article. Finally the mail did come and, while it wasn't five hundred pieces from the deserts of Africa, it _was _probably close to four hundred pieces from all over Europe. A dozen or so Gryffindors pitched in to release the owls from the letters and packages they carried and managed to gather the mail within about ten minutes, although it took another few minutes for Harry to get it all into his bag.

The remainder of breakfast was even more tense, at least for Harry. The comments he overheard were not, for the most part, deliberately nasty, but he had found them all offensive anyway. His courtships were _not _their business. Ron's comments _were_ deliberately nasty, though, and Harry had been very hard-pressed to keep his mouth shut. A completely unexpected source had come to his defense against Ron, however. Lavender, to the jaw-dropping shock of everyone within hearing distance, had raked Ron over the proverbial coals. When Harry had grinned at her in thanks, causing the girl to blush, Hermione had scolded him about flirting with someone and leading them on. His newly acquired good mood had vanished instantaneously and he had scathingly replied that a grateful grin was hardly flirting and it wasn't any of her business anyway. From that point on Harry had only issued biting retorts to any teasing or comments about the number of letters he had received. Everyone had quickly learned to leave him alone.

Eventually the students left and Harry did the same thing as the prior days, taking out stacks of folders and postcards and arranging them around him on the table. Once again he was aware of, but ignored, the headmaster's scrutiny from the head table. Harry figured that all the time he spent at the Gryffindor table answering mail would be supervised by one teacher or another. He wondered if they were hoping to catch him actually skipping class instead of dealing with his courting tasks. If so, they were going to be wasting their time.

Harry pulled out a bundle of letters and grimaced at the knowledge that he was going to be here all day. And, indeed, by lunchtime he had dealt with not even a quarter of the day's letters.

"How far did you get, Harry?" asked Neville as he sat down and helped Harry re-bundle the separate stacks that were still sitting on the table.

Harry snorted and said, "Eighty-something, I think."

"Ouch," Neville said with a wince. "This is going to take you forever."

"Yeah," Harry agreed tiredly. "Most of them had gifts, so I had to actually write out the notes. It takes me ten times as long as simply addressing a postcard."

Neville sent a questioning look as he placed the last bundled stack in front of Harry. "Postcard?"

"Yeah," Harry said and pulled the top card out of the two postcard bundles. "Here," he said and passed them over to Neville before putting the now-bundled piles back into his bag to get them out of the way of his year-mates who were quickly filing in for lunch.

"Read it out loud, Neville," Hermione said as she took a seat opposite them.

Neville looked at Harry, who shrugged his indifference, then turned his eyes back to the postcard and began reading. "Thank you for contacting me in regards to the possibility of beginning a courtship between us. I am flattered by your interest. I am looking for a male mate, however, and must respectfully decline your proposal. Sincerely, Harry James Potter."

"Nice and to the point," Hermione said approvingly.

Harry shrugged. "That was the idea."

"You want to know what the second one says?" Neville asked, moving the first postcard to the back.

"Second? Oh, of course, for the males. Yes, what does it say?" Hermione said while arranging her school bag comfortably at her feet.

Neville cleared his throat and read, "Thank you for contacting me in regards to the possibility of beginning a courtship between us. I am flattered by your interest. Please come to a meeting in the Cecil Bruner room at _The Rose Inn _at 23 Vertic Alley in London beginning precisely at 10:00 in the morning on Saturday, October 19. At this time you will have the opportunity to feel my magic for compatibility with your own and be given my first tests of worthiness. Attendance is mandatory for all potential suitors. Sincerely, Harry James Potter."

"Well, I guess that's also to the point," Hermione said blandly. "What does it mean, though?"

Harry looked at her in puzzlement and said, "What do you mean what does it mean? It means what it means. It's pretty straightforward."

"Well," Hermione said, somewhat flustered, "What tests? And what do you mean by compatibility? And where is Vertic Alley? And why do all the suitors have to come? And why then? That's a Hogsmeade weekend, you know."

Harry held up his hand and waved it to stem the flow of questions. "Whoa. Slow down. Yes, I know it's a Hogsmeade weekend. That's why I chose that date. I _am _trying to make an effort to keep the disruption of my time at Hogwarts to a minimum, despite what anyone might think. They all have to come because that's when my first tests will be and, no, I'm not going to talk about the tests until afterwards."

Hermione looked a bit put out by his response and was about to ask another question when Parvati spoke up. "_The Rose Inn _is a nice place. It has a beautiful tea room."

"Yes," Harry nodded and gave the girl a small smile. "It also has large meeting rooms that can automatically expand in size and be set up like an amphitheatre if you ask. That's what I'm going to be using. Plus, it has exceptional security."

"How are you paying for that, Harry?" Hermione asked in surprise.

There was a moment of silence before Neville said softly, "That's a really rude question, Hermione."

Hermione looked taken aback and then a bit uncomfortable at the looks she was receiving and said, "Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. I was just curious."

Harry gave a half-nod half-shrug, definitely not wanting to answer since he _hadn't_ paid for it, and then promptly ignored everyone as he vied for the foodstuffs that had just appeared on the table. Everyone else did the same and questions were averted for the next few minutes.

"So," Hermione said, "Vertic Alley? Compatibility?"

Harry sighed. "Honestly, Hermione. Let me eat. Please?" Harry pleaded.

"Lunch just started, Harry," Hermione said impatiently. "There's plenty of time to eat. And I know you can hold a conversation and eat at the same time. You've done it before."

Harry sighed again in annoyance and defiantly took a bite of his roast beef sandwich.

"Vertic Alley is the eastern road of The Great Square," Parvati volunteered. "You can apparate straight there, or floo to _Russell's Pub,_ or you can walk all the way down to the opposite end of Diagon Alley from _The Leaky Cauldron_ to get to the crossroads."

"I've never heard of those places," Hermione said stiffly, obviously annoyed that she didn't know something.

Parvati shrugged slightly and said, "I guess you've never explored The Great Square, then, or walked all the way down Diagon Alley."

Before Hermione could jump in with more questions, Neville continued the explanation. "The Great Square is where almost all of the wizarding businesses and industries of Britain are located. It's a great big square with seven roads or Alleys. Vertic Alley runs north-south and forms the eastern part of the square – it has the more upscale businesses. Parall Alley runs north-south and forms the western part – it holds most of the industries. The Honeydukes factory is there, for example. Horizont Alley runs east-west and is the northern part – it has the businesses that need large spaces to show their wares, like furniture places and art galleries. Perpendicular Alley, usually shortened to Perpen Alley, runs east-west and is the southern part – it holds most of the services, like independent healers, travel agencies, realtors, stuff like that."

Neville stopped to take a drink of his pumpkin juice then continued a bit nervously as a lot more people than just Hermione were now listening to him, "Diagon Alley isn't just a funny play on the word diagonally, it actually does run diagonally from the southwest corner to the northeast corner and holds all the mainstream stores, including all the stores a Hogwarts student needs to go to in order to get their school supplies. Tangent Alley runs twisty and turny in the northeast triangle and connects to Diagon, Vertic and Perpen Alleys and holds all the international stores. Knockturn Alley, and nobody remembers why it's named that and not something consistent with the other Alleys, runs all twisty in the southwest triangle – it has entrances to Diagon, Parall, and Horizont Alleys and holds all the fringe stores. Despite its reputation, it's really not full of illegal stores. All the stores are perfectly legal, it's just that most people aren't interested in the more oddball things like, well…"

"There's a tattoo shop down there," Harry supplied helpfully when Neville trailed off. "And a herpetarium."

"A what?" Dean asked, not bothering to hide that he'd been eavesdropping.

"A reptile store. You know. Snakes," Harry said, then added quickly in afterthought, "and lizards."

"Right," Dean said with a grimace.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed indignantly. "I can't believe you went exploring Knockturn Alley!"

Harry raised an eyebrow and said, "Why not? It's perfectly safe to walk down there. At least, during the day it is. At night it gets a bit more raunchy with all the nightlife. There's nothing more illegal going on down there than there is in Diagon Alley."

Hermione didn't look as if she believed him but did let the subject drop in favor of another question. "So why haven't I ever seen the two Alleys that intersect at the southwest corner or even Tangent Alley?"

"Well," Harry said, "you probably haven't walked far enough down to see the entrance to Tangent Alley. It's a little beyond Ollivander's and most students don't go past his shop. As for Parall and Perpen Alleys, you have to tap a different sequence of bricks at the archway."

"How come I've never heard of this?" Hermione asked peevishly. "Is this just another attempt to keep out muggle-borns?"

Harry smirked and asked, "Did you ever ask for a map at _The Leaky Cauldron_?"

Hermione stared at Harry silently, stunned.

"Well, there you go, then," Harry said and took another bite of his sandwich to the snickers of some of the students around him.

Hermione was quiet for some time and Harry managed to eat one whole sandwich and get through half of another one before she had gathered herself together for more questions.

"Harry?"

"Yes?" Harry replied, wondering just how he was going to answer the question about magic compatibility without pissing off the young witch.

"How come you're not like Fleur Delacour? Your, um," Hermione said, blushing and waving her fork vaguely.

"My allure?" Harry asked in amusement and relief.

Hermione nodded, still blushing.

Harry shrugged. "I can control it. When Fleur was here, she hadn't yet learned how to control her allure. She may have by now, I suppose. I don't know." He hadn't kept in contact with Fleur, despite her being a co-champion and a half-Veela. In fact, he'd rather avoided her during fourth year given what he had recently learned about his heritage from his mother's journals.

"It can be controlled?" Hermione asked in disbelief.

"Of course. It takes a lot of practice, though," Harry said.

"You mean she didn't bother to practice before coming here?" Hermione asked angrily.

"She might have had some practice," Harry said in defense of his fellow champion. "She didn't have any need to practice while at Beauxbaton because that school gets so many half-Veela that they've peppered the school with allure-countering wards and the same is true for most of the businesses on _Rue de Magique_."

"She should have practiced once she knew she was coming here," Hermione declared stubbornly.

Harry rubbed his forehead in aggravation. "She might have, Hermione. Or she might not have. In order to get control, you need test subjects – willing _and_ unwilling – and a competent tutor. Fleur probably didn't have those things the year she was here at Hogwarts."

"Well, it couldn't have been that hard," Hermione argued testily. "_You_ managed to do it in a month. Why couldn't she?"

Harry stilled and took a deep breath. "It was very hard, Hermione," Harry said with tightly leashed anger. "I practiced my Veela skills…_every…waking…moment…_of August. I slept, ate, went to the bathroom, showered, and _practiced_, all month. That was _it._ I squeezed nearly four hundred hours of training into August. I _needed _control so I didn't have even _more _people after me than I already will. Fleur didn't _need_ to do what I did, so she didn't. She also had a lot going on while she was here and probably didn't have much time to spare to practice her Veela skills. It's hardly her fault that stupid tournament was held here instead of in France."

"How did you manage that?" Hermione asked after a moment. "The Dursleys…"

"None of your business," Harry said sharply, angry that the girl hadn't even apologized for insulting him before asking another personal question.

"You said you had to have a tutor…" Hermione started determinedly, ignoring the warning in Harry's tone.

"It's none of your business, Hermione," Harry repeated angrily.

"Harry…"

"Shut _up,_ Hermione," Neville said loudly.

Shocked at Neville's command, Hermione did just that. The rest of the nearby students _had_ picked up on Harry's quickly worsening temper and left him alone. The remainder of lunch passed just as tensely as breakfast.

--HPDM--

Draco stared at the ceiling and considered the newest information from Pansy. His friend estimated that Potter had received between five and six hundred letters already. While that tidbit was interesting, Draco wasn't concerned with it. Quality, he knew, not speed, would be more impressive in regards to a courtship offer.

Pansy had also found out – from Padma who had found out from Parvati – several much more interesting things. Such as…Harry's temper. As in, Harry hadn't yet lost it. Not even once. _That_ actually scared him a bit because it meant that when Harry finally _did_ lose it, it was going to be _big_ and he had no interest in being anywhere near a pissed off, mate-seeking, submissive's fireballs. Which led him to the second point of interest.

Harry's training.

Apparently, Harry had had nearly four hundred hours of training in August and wasn't _that _a feat in and of itself? It easily explained why Harry could both shift at will and control his allure. Draco wondered if part of that training included learning control of the Veela signature fireballs. If so, well, Draco _really_ didn't want to be around when Harry let loose.

Next, Granger and Weasley were well on their way to permanently alienating Harry. Given Weasley's attitude of the past three days, Draco thought it likely that Harry had already written off the redhead's friendship. The reconciliation in fourth year had been somewhat reluctant on Harry's part and Draco didn't think Harry was going to be in a forgiving mood for a second time. Granger was simply too nosy and didn't know when to quit. Eventually she was going to push too far and Harry was going to snap back. As long as it didn't include fireballs, Draco would really love to watch it when it happened.

Unsurprisingly, the teachers, too, were being a bit idiotic. They had set a watch on Harry while he was in the Great Hall – an effort that Draco felt was a complete waste of time – and most were being standoffish and disapproving in their general interactions with him. While the watch was surely Dumbledore's idea, the attitude was likely solely their own. If they weren't careful, Harry wouldn't respect a single one of them by the end of the school year.

Also unsurprisingly, at least to Draco, Longbottom seemed to be stepping up to the plate to support Harry, quietly sliding into the position previously held by Granger and Weasley. Longbottom was an even-tempered wizard, undemanding, and had stood beside Harry quietly but staunchly for years and it wasn't all that unexpected that his presence seemed to be having a calming effect on Harry. If only for that reason alone Draco would cheer on the shy boy. Anything that kept a submissive from frying the Great Hall in a fit of frustration was a good thing in Draco's books.

However, there _was _a surprise in the social shifting of the Gryffindors. It seemed that Lavender Brown, air-headed and simple-minded gossip that she was, was _also _having a calming effect on Harry. He wondered if Harry knew that the girl had been married this past summer and was therefore "safe." It was well-known in the pureblood circles, but it hadn't been announced in the papers and both families had requested that the union be kept quiet until Brown, now Cadbury, had finished her schooling. And if Harry _did_ know, it once again raised the question of where the boy was getting his information.

Another somewhat surprising development was that Harry was being very diligent and meticulous about his mail, in direct contrast to how he had previously approached his schoolwork. He worked continuously on responding to the courtship offers from breakfast to lunch, without break, and today had worked again from lunch to dinner. Evidently Blaise was taking bets as to how long that would actually last and so far only Pansy had bet that it would last indefinitely. Draco agreed and had Pansy place a bet for him as well. No sense in her getting all the gold.

Harry was also knowledgeable about halfling genetics. Draco had been surprised at first and then realized he really shouldn't have been. After all, if Harry knew enough about what he was to challenge the headmaster at the welcoming feast, then it stood to reason that he would know how it had happened. Still, the idea of lemon-lime visual aids was pretty amusing and Draco wondered just how knowledgeable about magical genetics Harry actually was and _again_ where he had learned such information; the muggle-raised were almost universally clueless about the topic.

Draco levered himself up, wincing at the pull on his partially healed belly, and grabbed a quill and parchment from the top of a stack of textbooks for "entertainment" that Pansy had left for him. Once again getting comfortable, he started writing a very long letter to his great-grandmother. He needed some help with his plans and this was just the kind of thing she would love to get involved in.


	6. From 'D'

A/N: Right. How to put this. One of my betas pointed out that Albus' request seemed, hmmm, rather _beyond_ unorthodox, sooo… I do read gen, I do!, but I read so much slash that I think it just didn't _occur_ to me that the request could be so totally "out there" as to be shocking. (My friend burst out laughing and joked about it.) Anyway, I can't really fix it without busting the story so…let's just pretend that same-sex marriage is a total non-issue in the wizarding world, all right? Yeah, that'll work…(groans and slaps head)

All your review have been wonderful! I must admit to being behind on reading them all as I've just changed computers and getting everything set up on my new laptop is a bit time consuming. (Flipping back and forth between computers using a pen-drive is no fun, let me tell you.) I'm working on them, though! Some things I can respond to:

1) Veelas - yep, I've done some major changing to the canon/mythical Veela. They are definitely more robust and independent instead of being simply sex objects. I've got an aside running through my head about why _The Veela Accords_ are so unfair to wizards. I'm not sure it would be worth it to write it out, but I'll think about it.

2) The Tutor - mwa, ha, ha, ha, ha! Not Fleur, nope, nope. I will say that _someone's_ gotten sorta close. You'll find out...later...

3) Albus - maybe he does seem a bit controlling and scary right now but I'm hoping that changes. We'll see a little later if I was successful in getting across his motivations. He's not evil. No trolls! (snicker)

4) The Prophecy - I will address this, including Harry's feelings about it, but not until later.

5) Action - I think I might be constitutionally incapable of writing action... There are some fireballs thrown later, though. Does that count? This is a slow story, but I hope it doesn't move _too _slowly...

**Chapter 6 – From "D"**

_The Quibbler_, _Special Flyer,_ Monday, September 9, 1996

**Your exclusive source for the official Harry Potter Suitor Count!**

_Mr. Potter has been so kind as to agree to provide our illustrious paper with an official count of his suitors on a weekly basis. Along with the count of suitors, Mr. Potter has agreed to answer a few simple questions each week so that those who might be interested can get to know a little bit about him. This week our own Mr. Xenophilius Lovegood was curious about Mr. Potter's favorite foods. Feel free to submit your own questions, though we offer no guarantee that they will be asked and/or answered._

_**Current Count of Suitors: 754**_

_Favorite Drink:__ I actually like green tea the best. Pumpkin juice is all right, but it's sweet and I get tired of it really fast. The normal English or Irish breakfast teas are all right, too, I suppose, but what I'd really rather have is some good green tea._

_Favorite Food:__ Strawberry and banana trifle with lots of gooey caramel. Delicious._

The remainder of the prior week had been…annoying.

He was behind on his mail, several of the teachers were being snooty, and while most of the students, for the most part, didn't bother him, some people just couldn't get over their gossipmongering tendencies or their burning desire to ask him invasive questions. Hermione, for instance, was doing just as he had thought she might, that being making his situation her own personal research project. She was forever asking questions of him, demanding information and then getting angry when he turned out to be unwilling to satisfy her curiosity. She was being constantly warned off by Neville and Lavender.

Lavender was turning out to be quite the surprise. Harry had expected to find Neville's company soothing, but Lavender? He had given it a great deal of thought on Saturday and had come to the conclusion that it might be because he knew that she was married, and happily so, to a somewhat wealthy older man that she adored. Sunday afternoon, then, he had actually sought out her company and asked if she would like to help him go through the various pieces of jewelry he had received and offer comments.

Lavender had been delighted at the request and Harry had found her comments positively invaluable. It turned out that Lavender was quite knowledgeable on the topic of jewelry. The two of them, occasionally joined by some of the other girls, had spent nearly three hours Sunday afternoon talking about the different makes, brands and styles of the bracelets and pendants that he had received. He had come away from their discussion with a much better understanding of just what it was he had received: a name brand versus a knockoff, a new piece versus something older, a mass-market reproduction versus a custom-made piece.

Lavender had been thrilled to realize that she was having a real impact on his courtship evaluations – Harry was making notations on all the appropriate files on whether he found the gift boring or impressive based on what he was learning from her – and had volunteered to sit with him for an hour every night until they had gone through all the jewelry. He had gratefully accepted and resolved to send her a very nice belated wedding present once he was mated or her marriage became public knowledge, whichever came first.

Ron was turning out to _not _be a surprise. The redhead was nearing the end of the deadline Harry had established in his head as to how long he was going to put up with the other boy's snit before chucking their friendship out the tower window. He didn't have time on top of everything else to try and soothe ruffled feathers, especially ones that weren't ruffled through any fault of his own, and considering that on Sunday Ron had still been an irritating loudmouth…. Well, unless a miracle had happened overnight, Harry was figuring he had one less close friend this morning.

Gathering his determination, Harry got out of bed and headed to the shower. Ron stubbornly ignored him as he passed and Harry sadly but resolutely ignored him back. He finished his grooming and dressing without incident and, as was his new custom the last several days, walked with Neville down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

The morning's conversation was a bit desultory, everybody being tired, despite the weekend, from readjusting into a school schedule of classes and homework, and Harry was able to keep to himself until the mail owls came. After the initial deluge, the number of pieces of mail he received each day had decreased and yesterday he had received only about a hundred. He estimated he had received a total of perhaps twelve hundred letters so far, although he had only managed to get through a bit over seven hundred of them.

At that rate, he'd be lucky to be caught up by the deadline.

In what was fast becoming a practiced morning ritual, Harry and his housemates managed to efficiently gather his mail and get it off the table within five minutes. It would have been done more quickly but the stacks were all carefully labeled with a date so Harry could respond to the older letters first before starting on the newer arrivals. About to return to his breakfast, Harry heard the non-owl-type cry of another bird.

The entire school watched as a very large bird finished its circling and came down to land on the table directly in front of Harry with a heavy thump. The bird was huge, easily three times the size of his own owl and was quite striking with bright yellow talons and beak and an attractive combination of dark gray/brown and white feathers. He'd never seen such a creature.

"My goodness," Harry murmured, "And what are you?"

The bird twittered at him and held out one of its humongous claws to which was attached a slightly bulky letter. Harry gently untied the letter and then gave the bird a piece of bacon. The bird twittered at him again then bobbed its head a few times before it waddled and hopped its way to the edge of the table and spread its huge wings and took off.

Harry watched the bird leave bemusedly, wondering if the suitor actually owned it or was simply renting it. Either way, it was certainly impressive. He leaned back in his seat and opened the letter, the first one he had actually opened in the presence of the student body, and everyone avidly watched him for his reaction.

The first thing Harry noticed was the beautiful and flowing script. What he wouldn't give to have handwriting like that. The letter started with a simple greeting followed by an introduction and description of the bird that had delivered the letter. The next paragraph was a respectful request by the suitor to be allowed to pursue the courtship behind a mask of mystery. He wanted Harry to get to know the _real _him and not the very necessary public persona or be influenced by the opinions of the vague but ever-present _them. _As Harry could easily sympathize he was inclined to grant the request, especially since the suitor planned to send regular letters so that Harry could get to know him.

With the letter was a ring, described by his suitor as an austringer's, or falconer's, ring. The ring was designed specifically for those who had a lot of contact with birds of prey and with one command would sheath the arm it was on in a thin, but completely impenetrable, glove that would protect against the powerful talons.

Harry was impressed with this suitor. He liked practical and the ring was the only practical gift he had received to date. And, while the enchantment was advanced and the workmanship exquisite, it wasn't an obviously gaudy and expensive gift like some of the others. He also liked the tone of the letter. It was respectful and lighthearted while still containing a bit of wry humor. Plus, the request and proffered solution was reasonable and had some thought behind it.

Harry put the ring on, an action that caused murmurs throughout the hall, then folded the letter, returned it to its envelope, and placed it into his bag. "_Accipter manica_," he said and looked at the black leather glove that now adorned his left arm.

"Someone sent you gloves?" Hermione asked in disbelief.

"A falconer's glove," Harry replied absently and picked up his fork. "It's supposed to protect against the talons of hawks, falcons, owls, and the like." He prodded his fork against the glove hesitantly, then with more force as he felt nothing but a slight pressure. "Nice," he murmured, "Wish I'd had one of these when I first got Hedwig. Would have been downright useful, it would."

"I've heard of those," Neville said, staring in fascination at the plain black glove. "I've never seen one, though. What's it feel like when it's on like that?"

Harry moved his arm about, twisted his wrist, and wiggled his fingers. "Fine," he said in mild surprise. "It doesn't feel like I have anything heavier on than a pair of really lightweight gloves."

"Who's it from?" Hermione asked curiously.

"None of your business," Harry said mildly, flicking his eyes to his friend momentarily before returning to his scrutiny of the glove. "_Abdo manica_," he said and the glove disappeared. "Very nice. I like it."

Hermione flushed and said, "I'm just curious, Harry. You've never worn any of the gifts you've received as far as I know. I was just wondering whom it was that had caught your attention."

Harry nodded but didn't answer. Despite the fact that the suitor had hidden his identity, Harry knew exactly who he was; he had recognized both the writing and the lingering scent. Nevertheless, he was intrigued enough to play the secret-admirer game and let his suitor hide behind his little mask.

He would see the true face of Draco Malfoy.

--HPDM--

On the other side of the hall, Draco had barely suppressed a triumphant smirk when Harry had opened his letter right in front of everybody. Pansy, who had recognized the bird, had given Draco a _look_ but he had just gazed blandly back at her. He had actually had to hide a grin behind a glass of pumpkin juice, though, when Harry had placed the ring on his finger.

The rest of the day, especially when he heard of Harry's response, was an exercise in control for Draco. While he may be ecstatic that his first gift had been received so well, it was certainly no excuse to walk around grinning like an idiot.

It just went to show where planning and a bit of honest thoughtfulness could get you.

He knew his great-grandmother's bird would catch Harry's attention. How could it not? The large eagle caught _everybody's _attention. With it being so unusual, people would have noticed it even if the bird hadn't been instructed to wait out the owls and announce its presence….

Next week's gift, Draco was certain, would also be well received. And, as long as Harry didn't keep his comments to himself about it, it would also let Draco tailor some of the future gifts he sent. Not that he didn't have every week from now until the end of the school year already planned out, because he did. But Draco's plans for Harry's summer were dependent on the comments that filtered through the grapevine about next week's present and so he hoped for some definitive feedback.

Draco was going to show Harry, in no uncertain terms, that he not only understood but also accepted and supported Harry's plans for the future.

--HPDM--

Albus looked around at the members of the Order of the Phoenix. He had just finished summarizing what he had learned in the past week and was gauging their reactions. He was pleased to see the reactions he had hoped for. There was suspicion, annoyance, and even a bit of anger at Minerva's theories as to the origin of Lily's journals and there was thoughtfulness and concern over Harry's Veela status and courtships. There was also frustration over the advice he had received from Filius, Severus, and Madam Maxime; all three had basically said "leave him alone."

Moody scowled at the table and said, "Albus, did Madam Maxime say why she was surprised at Potter's control?"

"Yes," Albus nodded. "Olympe stated that control such as Harry displayed only comes with practice under the guidance of a tutor. She had never heard of any newly awakened half-Veela mastering their abilities in only a month."

"So, Potter had a tutor," Moody stated. "Who?"

"I've no idea, Alastor," Albus replied with a frown. "I am certain, however, that this tutor never set foot into the Dursley's home."

"Which means that Potter left the premises," Moody said.

Albus nodded gravely and asked, "Did any of the guards notice anything this past summer?"

The Order members glanced around or stared thoughtfully at the table. Tonks finally spoke up and said, "I never saw him outside. I didn't think anything of it since my shift only went until nine o'clock and I just figured he was sleeping in. Maybe it was really because he wasn't there at all."

Albus looked around, "Did anybody else notice that Harry didn't go outside?"

The order members looked about at each other, but nobody spoke up. Albus said, "Perhaps I should rephrase the question. Did anybody see Harry outside at all?"

Again, there was silence.

Albus turned towards Moody, "Alastor? Did you see him?"

Moody looked thoughtful and said, "Yes, I saw him. Or thought I did. Now… I think maybe what I was seeing was a construct, a conjured mannequin. He never moved and I remember checking more than a few times that the boy was actually breathing. But if you're good at it, you can get a construct to simulate breathing."

"So it's possible that he didn't spend any time at all at his relative's house?" Albus questioned intently.

Moody nodded his head. "Possibly. The position that he was in changed between the times I was there, though, so someone had to either reposition the construct or banish it and recast a new image."

"Harry must have returned occasionally," Albus said decisively. "I'm certain no unauthorized persons entered that house and there was no unauthorized magic. Also, I cannot see any of the Dursleys agreeing to what you've suggested."

Moody shrugged but didn't reply and no one else had any comments.

"Where could he have gone?" Molly asked worriedly. "It's too dangerous for him to be off on his own. Surely he realized that?"

Moody gave a rueful chuckle and said admiringly, "Obviously he was with the tutor and I doubt we'll ever know more than that unless Potter tells us himself. If we haven't heard anything at all about Potter being sighted somewhere this summer, then I'd say he was likely holed up somewhere extremely private."

"Harry would never have been able to stay inside all summer," Molly protested. "That boy loves being outdoors. We should be able to find where he went if we ask around."

Albus shook his head and said, "No, I think that Alastor is right. Olympe said that control of the allure and shape-shift takes a newly awakened half-Veela an average of two hundred hours of training each. That's why it takes most of her half-Veela students a full two years to master their abilities. With schoolwork and social activities, the children practice only four or five hours a week. In order for Harry to have the control he displayed, he would have had to practice all day, every day."

"Well, what happens now?" asked Hestia. "Do we help him find his mate?"

"Haven't you been listening, woman?" Severus questioned snidely. "The boy must find his own mate and there is nothing we can do."

Hestia looked offended and said, "I just meant is there some way we can speed up the courtships or provide candidates?"

Albus held up his hand and Severus held in his retort. "The only way we can influence his choice is by having somebody initiate a courtship." Albus paused for a moment then said, "I know it's unorthodox, but I'd like to ask the unattached males to enter the courtships."

"That leaves me out," Elphias Doge said amongst the surprised murmurs, "I'm way too old."

Albus nodded, "True, but most of the others are within the age restriction. I admit to thinking that perhaps one of the Weasley boys would be the best match but would like to hedge our bets."

"You're crazy if you think Harry won't see right through this," George said a bit angrily, ignoring his mother's calculating look as he finally realized just why he and his twin had been invited to this meeting. "He's not stupid, you know."

"Perhaps," Albus said mildly. "However, we need to take this opportunity to guide him on the correct path."

A derisive voice came from a direction other than Severus. "George is right. None of us has a chance. It would be a wasted effort," Bill Weasley said.

"Why is that?" Albus asked.

"Harry will have a particular set of requirements laid out for what he wants in a mate. I wouldn't be surprised if one of those requirements was honesty. You know, _not _lying to him or hiding information?" Bill said disgustedly.

There was a short uncomfortable silence until Albus asked, "You are good friends with Fleur, correct? Can you give us any hints as to how to approach the courtships?"

Bill shook his head at the blatant dismissal but answered nevertheless. "Accept him for himself and not who you want him to be. And don't fail the tests."

The order spent the next half hour arguing and discussing, but in the end it was decided that all of the unattached males, except Severus, would enter the courtships. There were a total of six appropriately aged unattached males in addition to the four Weasley sons and all were to send a letter of intent within the next week. The three unattached males over the age limit were also going to send a letter of intent.

The youngest Weasley males were vehemently against the plan until they received a pointed look from Bill, at which point they quelled all of their objections. They left the meeting disgruntled and quickly agreed with Bill's casual suggestion that they all head to _The Leaky Cauldron_ for a butterbeer.

After the four were seated, Fred asked demandingly, "Well?"

"Write your letters, let Dumbledore see them, and forget about it," Bill said and flipped the cap off his bottle of butterbeer.

The other three Weasleys looked at each other and then focused back on Bill. "Why?" Charlie asked.

"Do any of you really want to marry Harry?" Bill asked and took a swig of his drink.

"No," came three voices.

"Then don't worry about it. Don't deliberately throw your suit, but don't think for a moment that Harry won't notice your disinterest," Bill said and took another sip of his butterbeer. "You never know, you might even fail one of his tests."

Fred, George, and Charlie looked at Bill, looked at each other, nodded, and joined Bill in several rounds of butterbeer and casual conversation.

--end chapter--

Latin words: accipter - hawk; manica - glove; abdo - banish


	7. Latter September

**Updated 5/21/2008** - Cookies to Rokkis for letting me know the foreign website I reference at the end is actually in Danish and not Norwegian as I'd originally guessed.

A/N: Yes, I'm afraid this is another slow story. And this is another slow chapter. I tried to see if I could condense it down and speed it up but...I ended up adding more stuff. I thought I'd better quite while I was ahead... There's chapter 8, then the testing starts...

Ron/Hermione/Ginny – hmmm, well, Ginny won't have a major part, but you do see her a few times. And don't give up on Hermione just yet. I'm not that nice to Ron, though, I admit. I'm afraid the whole Ron character was ruined for me when he didn't believe his "best friend" over the gossip in regards to the Goblet. From that moment, the character became irredeemable and utterly untrustworthy in my eyes. No matter what he did in the future. After all, he turned once, he could do it again. He was old enough to know better. And it's always easier the second time around… Given all the Ron!bashing in fanfiction, I'm obviously not the only one that didn't come away with a good impression. Yes, he had his good spots. Yes, he got better. But I don't see as completely off the wall the possibility that, given a strong enough reason to be jealous, he could easily backslide into the whole petulant "me, me, me" attitude. Just my opinion.

**Chapter 7 – Latter September**

_The Quibbler, Special Addition to September Edition,_ Monday, September 16, 1996

_**Current Count of Suitors: 1,612**_

_Favorite Music:__ I don't know, really. I've never really had a chance to listen to music on my own, I've just overheard stuff other people were listening to. The Weird Sisters at the Yule ball a couple years ago were all right. I saw an opera on the telly once and didn't much care for it. At least, not when they were singing. Just the music was nice._

_Favorite Animal:__ You'd probably think snakes, wouldn't you? But no, I actually like cats. Nice, soft, purring fuzzballs. I'd like to have a miniature kneazle one day._

The majestic bird once again showed up on Monday morning after all the owls had gone, this time carrying a package instead of a letter. As the bird glided down, Harry stood and held out his arm, whispering the activation words for the ring he wore to summon the black protective glove. The bird took the offered perch and Harry's arm nearly collapsed under the weight.

"Goodness," Harry grunted out. "You sure are a heavy one, aren't you, girl?"

The bird screeched in irritation and Harry hurried to say, "I'm sure you're a very lovely specimen or your species and not overweight in any way. And I know I shouldn't have been surprised; the letter did say you weighed twenty pounds. It's just that I didn't really comprehend just how much that was, that's all."

The bird chattered at him in what Harry presumed to be forgiveness and shifted its weight to one claw so that it could hold out the other imperiously. Harry ignored his housemates' laughter at his hurried apology to the large bird and untied the package. He set it down beside his plate and picked up a piece of bacon from the serving platter.

"Thank you, Nichol," Harry said as the bird accepted the offering. "Will you stay for a moment so I can give you a return letter?" The bird bobbed her head and stuck out her leg again once she was finished ripping apart and eating the bacon slice. Harry tied on a letter that basically said "ok on the hidden identity thing for now, thanks for the cool ring, you still have to show up here" then used his right hand to help support his left arm as the bird launched itself into the air.

"Nichol? That monster is named Nichol?" Dean exclaimed in disbelief.

"What's wrong with Nichol?" Harry asked absently as he examined the glove. He was pleased to find not a single scratch upon it.

"Uh, well, nothing, I suppose," Dean admitted, shaking his head. "I would have named it something bigger, though, like, say, Godzilla."

Harry gave Dean an incredulous look as he banished the glove and retook his seat. "She's named after the last czar of Russia since her species comes from eastern Russia. And I hardly think _Godzilla _is a good name for an eagle."

"What _is _her species, Harry?" Hermione asked curiously. "I've never even seen a picture of a bird like that."

"She's a Steller Sea Eagle, hatched in Russia but raised in Britain, weighs twenty pounds, and eats one to two pounds of fish a day. Other than her name, that's all I know." Harry hoped to stave off a lengthy question and answer session by giving up all his knowledge right up front. He picked up his package and examined it.

"Where did you read that?" Hermione asked eagerly. "Does the library have books on raptors? I've never seen one, but then I've never looked for that topic, either."

"I read it in the last letter. I have no idea if our library has books on eagles, though I know they have books on owls," Harry said with a quick look to his friend before untying the string on his package.

"Oh," Hermione said thoughtfully before returning to her breakfast. Everyone within hearing distance knew that she would have inventoried any and all books on raptors by the end of the day.

"Why are you opening your present, Harry?" Parvati asked suddenly.

Harry raised an eyebrow and said mildly, "Because I want to." By now, everyone had come to realize that that tone of voice was a warning to mind their own business.

Parvati blushed and said, "I wasn't trying to be nosy. I was just wondering why you open things from this suitor when you don't open anything from anybody else until after breakfast. I was just wondering how come, that's all. You don't have to say."

Harry pulled the heavy paper off the package to reveal a book and a letter. He picked up the letter and tapped it against the palm of his left hand, debating whether or not to answer. Finally, he said, "I like the bird."

Harry opened and read the letter in the resulting uneasy and confused silence. Seems his housemates didn't see the logic in his statement. There wasn't any, of course. What he had said was the truth. He liked the bird. It was impressive, unusual, and had a great deal more character than a simple post owl. He wondered if that tidbit would make it into _The Daily Prophet _and cause any suitors to start sending unusual birds.

This missive, like the last one, was relatively short. It stated that his suitor had noted Harry's interest in foreign cultures from the article in _The Quibbler_ and thought that Harry might like the enclosed book. "D" had read it himself and had enjoyed it immensely; his favorite chapters being 15, 22, 36, and 73 on Greece, France, Finland, and Mayan Mexico respectively.

Harry looked at the book in interest, noting the primary title of _Wizarding Cultures of the World_. The book was quite large, and the table of contents showed 167 different chapters/cultures. A short paragraph above the start of the table of contents proclaimed that each chapter was further subdivided into sections on physical and magical geography, language and culture, arts and science, flora and fauna, general history and famous people, sites and events of interest, economics, and current foreign affairs including alliances, trade agreements, boycotts, and treaties. Each chapter was a good hundred pages long or more.

He was impressed.

"What book do you have there, Harry?" Hermione asked curiously, straining to see the title.

"_Wizarding Cultures of the World: A Brief Exploration,_ _revised expanded edition with pictures_ by Edward Montgomery," Harry answered, still flipping through the table of contents in interest.

"Really?" Hermione asked in surprise. "I've always wanted that book! It's the absolute best overview on worldwide wizarding cultures that you can buy! It's _hideously _expensive, though. My parents refuse to buy it for me. They say I'll have to get my own job and use my own money. I will, too, one day."

"Really?" Harry said, looking up briefly, even more impressed with the gift. "I can see why. It's an encyclopedia just by itself. It's nearly twenty thousand pages and it looks like there are full-size pictures every other page."

"It actually has more space devoted to pictures, maps, and diagrams than it does to actual text," Hermione said excitedly. "That's part of why it's so expensive. Even the non-picture version is expensive, though. This past summer the two versions were going for 80 and 200 galleons each."

"Really?" Harry said again, eyebrows climbing high as he regarded the book in his hands.

"Oh, yes. It's just a wonderful book! We don't have one here at Hogwarts, though. Madam Pince says it's too expensive to risk on students that don't appreciate it. Are you going to read it? Can I read it with you?" Hermione asked eagerly, practically bouncing in her seat at the prospect of maybe having access to one of her dream tomes.

Harry smirked at Hermione and said, "Yes, I plan on reading it. If we're somewhere convenient, I suppose I don't mind you reading it with me, as long as you don't mind reading at my pace."

Hermione nodded quickly and Harry laughed at his friend's antics. "Do you know what kind of spells it has on it?" Harry asked in curiosity. "It's got to have some kind of shrinking and weightless spells on it to only be the size of a regular book."

Hermione nodded again. "Yes, that's it exactly. There's a featherweight spell on it and the pages are spelled to be full thickness only if they're exposed to light, otherwise they're as thin as onion skin. Plus, it has general preservation spells on it as well as anti-tear spells on the pages."

"Really?" Harry said once again, looking in fascination at his new book. That was some fancy spellwork. The more he learned about the book, the more impressed he became.

He had to hand it to Draco; he was obviously well versed in the concept of expensive but understated. The falconer's ring, Harry had discovered via the gossip of _The Daily Prophet_, was valued at around 50 galleons, and that was just for the enchantments. Lavender had told him that the workmanship of his ring likely doubled its value. And if it hadn't been for Hermione he would never have known the value of the book he now held.

He wondered if this was purposeful on Draco's part or if it was actually a part of the other boy's true persona. Time would tell, he supposed. He was just grateful that Draco hadn't sent him any foodstuffs or related paraphernalia.

He hadn't lied when he said he liked green tea and strawberry and banana trifle, but… He couldn't even guess how long it was going to take to go through the one hundred plus boxes of green tea he had received as gifts in the past week and he was handing the dessert cookbooks off to the Hogwarts' house elves as soon as he got them. The little beings were drowning the kitchen in tears they were so delighted. Harry, however, was decidedly annoyed that his suitors had focused on the little blurb he was providing with the official count and not the content of the original interview. He had diligently noted a negative tick mark in each of the offending gift-givers' files.

Didn't these people have any creativity?

_The Quibbler, Special Flyer,_ Monday, September 23 1996

_**Current Count of Suitors: 2,291**_

_Favorite Color:__ Green. Slytherin green, actually, and isn't that funny since I'm in Gryffindor. Red is my second favorite, though. Then black, white, purple, and blue. I don't like browns or oranges. Yellow and gray are all right. _

_Favorite Season:__ Spring. I really love watching the land come alive with color once again. All the different flowers and the new leaves on the trees…_

The following Monday found Harry laughing out loud in bright amusement. This week's gift from "D" was four very nice shirts in deep shades of varying colors. He had been wondering just how long it was going to take Malfoy to address his wardrobe. Harry anticipated that he would be getting clothes for at least the next month. Considering the sorry state of his wardrobe, he was looking forward to it.

"What did you get?" Parvati asked curiously.

"Some nice shirts," Harry said after a small pause. His housemates were helping him gather his mail every morning so he figured they deserved some bits of inside information. For as long as it didn't get spread through the gossip mill, at any rate.

"Going to dress fancy now, Potter?" Ron's voice sneered from four seats to the left.

Harry clenched a hand but answered calmly. "I'll dress as I dress, Ron. But, yes, I'll quite likely wear these shirts. I like them."

"Too good for us now, are you? Going to join the prissy purebloods?" Ron jeered, the look on his face one he likely thought was haughty but actually just showcased his ugly jealousy. "They won't want you, you know, with you being a half-blood and all. I bet that…Ow!"

Harry ground his teeth but was resolute about not sniping back. He needed to keep his temper. "Actually, Ron, I am considered a pure-blood. I have only Veela and wizard genes, after all. And, no, I don't think I'm going to become prissy. That's not in my nature."

"That's what you say _now_," Ron said angrily as he fended off Seamus' elbow. "Just wait…Ow! Stop kicking me!"

"You shut your mouth, Ronald Weasley!" Hermione screeched. "What is wrong with you?"

Harry used one of his mother's favorite calming techniques as he listened to Hermione yell at Ron about abandoning your friends and harassing people for no reason. Clench toes, count to five. Stretch toes, count to five. Repeat. Repeat. She'd liked it because the little exercise could be done invisibly – nobody would see that you were anything but perfectly calm and in control. He liked it for the same reason. Plus, it kept him from calling up his fireballs if he concentrated on his feet instead of his hands.

He wriggled one of his hands into the box of shirts and stroked the dark green satin shirt that had been on top. This, too, helped calm him and he tuned out Ron's spiteful words. Surprisingly, the shirts from Draco were the first gift of clothing he had yet received. He had expected clothing – mainly shirts and sweaters – would be a popular gift, as it would take little effort to find something both suitable and nice. Maybe they were afraid they would offend his sense of style?

He decided to wear a couple of the shirts over the weekend. Maybe he'd wear some of the jewelry he had received, too. He would probably start getting a lot more clothing if he did that, though. After all, whatever he wore would likely be reported post-haste to _The Daily Prophet _or _Witch Weekly _or any other number of gossip columns, but, gossip columns or no, it was about time he started publicly showing his preference in gifts. Plus, he really _could _use a new wardrobe; might as well let his suitors fill it out for him.

He'd be able to get to the jewelry easily now, too. One of his suitors, Ian Cadwgan – a Welsh wizard a half dozen years older than Harry – had gotten himself onto Harry's list of favorite suitors when he sent his letter of intent with the very thoughtful gift of a jewelry box. Ian had stated that he figured Harry was receiving an unwieldy amount of jewelry and hoped that the box – with space-expanded compartments with rotating hooks for large collections! – would help Harry organize those pieces he intended on keeping.

The box was a deep polished burgundy with an inlaid starburst design of lighter wood. It was pretty, in a masculine sort of way. It would also hold 100 each of rings, cloak pins, hat pins, and charm pendants, 200 chains – easily holds chains up to one meter long! – and a total of 50 torcs and bangle style bracelets – special flat compartment for those large pieces! In short, it was _perfect_. He was going to ask Lavender to help him this week to fill it up with everything he'd received to date.

Ian wasn't the only suitor to be added to the favorites list last week. Vincento Salieri from Italy and John Smith – yes, that was his real name, blame his parents – from America had both sent him 500 marble capacity organizers for the music marbles they anticipated he would be receiving as a result of last week's blurb. Let it not be said that they weren't quite correct in their presumptions; Harry had stopped counting the number of music marbles he had received after the first two hundred that had arrived the first day.

While he did appreciate the music, those suitors had received negative marks in their files, just like the suitors who had sent tea and cookbooks. There was minimal thought behind a gift derived directly from one of the blurbs in _The Quibbler._ The marble organizers, however, just like the jewelry box, may have been inspired by the blurbs but also showed that the suitor had extrapolated the likely outcome of said blurb and sent an appropriate gift that would be useful to Harry.

The suitors who had sent books on kneazles had, for the same reason, also received negative marks. Well, except for one. Su Chin had sent the book _Purring Pets_ which, while it did include entries on kneazles, full size and miniature, also included entries on every pet-amenable creature that purred, and in the magical world that was of a far greater variety than simply the cat family. The book was interesting and creative and while Harry had no intention of reading it any time soon, he did give Su Chin positive marks, though didn't add him to the favorites list.

This week Harry figured he would be inundated with green things and spring-related items. Although, he'd probably still get music marbles and kneazle related items; after all, he was still getting green tea and dessert books.

_The Quibbler, Special Flyer,_ Monday, September 30, 1996

_**Current Count of Suitors: 2,902**_

_Favorite Holiday:__ New Year's Eve. I like Yule just fine, but it's really the start of a new year that I like best. Making it in one piece to the start of a new year is a hopeful sign for me, you know? Something that says maybe this next year will be better than the last. I feel the same way on my birthday._

_Favorite Writer:__ Well, right now I'd have to say Edward Montgomery. I couldn't say overall, though. This is actually the first time I've had a chance to read anything other than what I absolutely needed to._

Four pair of trousers came with the expected letter and Harry grinned as he read about how "D" had first started learning about clothes. It seemed "D's" great-grandmother had taken exception to the fabric and style of a pair of pants he'd chosen to wear to tea one afternoon and decided that "D" was, at the age of four, quite in need of clothing lessons. To this day, "D" fully remembered, in horrified amusement, that first lesson on appropriate trousers and although he had grown to have an honest interest in fashion, he continued to be, in all ways, overshadowed in that venue by his great-grandmother.

Harry snickered and wondered just what this woman would be like in person. "D" described his great-grandmother in loving detail, claiming that while she was very affectionate and supportive that one just _did not _cross her; she was the matriarch of the family and wielded that power ruthlessly if necessary. She sounded like a strong, fascinating woman. She would have to be if she was able to keep Draco Malfoy in line.

"What's so funny, Harry?" asked Ginny from two seats over.

Harry looked over to the girl and stared at her in silent surprise; and he wasn't the only one to do so. This was the first time since the welcoming feast that Ginny had said anything to him at all. He had much preferred her silent treatment to the snide comments of her brother, but still….

Ginny blushed bright red at the shocked faces of her housemates. "I know I haven't been the best of friends lately. I just wasn't sure how to react, that's all," she said in embarrassment.

Harry remained silent and staring. Just how was he supposed to handle this? Forgive her? Argue with her? Tell her to bugger off?

Ginny took the silence for permission to continue explaining herself. "I really thought that I was over the crush I had on you all those years, but when you said in that interview that you wanted a man…." Ginny chewed her lower lip for a moment before continuing, "Well, I was really hurt."

Harry raised his eyebrows at that last statement. Hurt? It wasn't as if he had been leading her on or anything.

"I know it's stupid," Ginny said with an annoyed scowl. "That's why I've been keeping my mouth shut. I've been working through all those childish feelings and trying to figure out how to still be your friend. I think I've managed it, finally." Ginny paused for a moment then said sincerely, "I'm sorry for hurting you."

Harry stared at the girl for a moment, evaluating her speech, and then said, "Something in the letter."

"What?" Ginny asked in confusion.

"What was funny," Harry said. "It was something in the letter."

Ginny grinned, understanding that Harry had decided to forgive her, at least conditionally. "Oh. I don't suppose you'd be willing to share, would you?" At Harry's headshake, she asked, still grinning, "So what did he send you this week? Pants?"

Harry grinned back and nodded. "Yes. A pair in black and one each of dark, medium, and light gray. All are one hundred percent wool with a one-time voice-activated hemming charm."

"Hopefully it's a better charm than the last one I got," Dean interjected. "My pants ended up three inches too short."

"Shut up, Dean," Ginny said and punched the boy in the arm. Dean exclaimed his innocent intentions but Ginny talked right over him, "Don't listen to him, Harry. I'm sure the charms will work marvelously."

Harry snorted at their antics and said, "I'm sure. I'm hoping that everything else that came with a hemming charm will also work _marvelously_."

"Have you gotten a lot of pants?" Hermione asked as she buttered a piece of toast.

"I've gotten a few. I only just started getting clothes this past week, ever since "D" sent those shirts. I thought I'd have been getting them all along, but there you go," Harry said with a shrug.

"You haven't been getting clothes? Really?" Hermione asked in surprise. "I'd have figured that would be one of the most popular gifts."

"I would have thought so, too, but…" Harry trailed off with a shake of his head.

"What kinds of gifts have you gotten, then?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Jewelry, tea, books, music," Harry answered, ticking them off on his fingers. "Like I said, I only started getting clothes this past week."

"Is that what you were wearing over the weekend?" asked Parvati brightly. "I remember thinking that your clothes looked new. I loved that blue shirt you wore yesterday. And those tight jeans were absolutely yummy. A nice belt would really tie it together. Was the pendant you wore from one of your suitors, too?"

"Yes," Harry said, grinning at Parvati's enthusiasm over his wardrobe. "You don't think it was too odd? Wearing a velvet shirt with jeans?"

"No," Parvati said with a vigorous shake of her head. "It was perfect. You were just screaming casual elegance with a bit of naughtiness thrown in."

"Naughtiness?" questioned Hermione while Harry simply continued to grin.

"Of course," Parvati said, looking at Hermione as if the answer was obvious. "He didn't have on any shoes or socks. It was very sexy."

Hermione looked scandalized when the surrounding girls all nodded their agreement. "I hadn't noticed," she said tightly.

"I was thinking of getting a toe ring," Harry said, still grinning, and watched as Hermione's face became even more scandalized. Oh, how he loved stirring the pot! "I was worried that I'd have problems with my shoes, though."

"Ooh, that would have been perfect," Parvati cooed out.

"_Lilith's _has a nice selection," Lavender offered helpfully as she poured another cup of pumpkin juice for herself and Parvati. "You can get flat ones that don't interfere with shoes or you can get fancy ones that will. Some of the fancy ones have spells on them to make them flat whenever you want, but those are more expensive."

"And you would know this how?" Hermione asked a bit shrilly.

"I have nice long toes," Lavender said somewhat indignantly. "Just like Harry. Except Harry has bigger feet. He's a boy, you know."

Hermione stared at Lavender blankly for a moment as the other girls giggled, then stiffly picked up her utensils. "I'm going to eat breakfast now."

Harry snickered and joined her.

--end chapter--

A/N: For the curious, below are links to various pictures and size comparisons for the Steller's Sea Eagle and a Snowy Owl. You'll have to exchange the "--" for a "." and the (underscore) for an underscore, but otherwise all the links worked right before I posted this.

Picture of a snowy owl & human - backtothewild--com/bttwpages/owl2.html

Basic facts and size comparison between snowy owl & human - scroll down to the middle to see the size comparison - www3.nationalgeographic--com/animals/birds/snowy-owl.html

Basic facts and size comparison between Steller's Sea Eagle & human - again, scroll down to see the massive difference - www3.nationalgeographic--com/animals/birds/stellers-eagle.html

Picture of a juvenile Steller's Sea Eagle & human - this site also has various video if you want to go looking - it's in Danish but you should be able to get around - www.eagleworld.dk/page/STELLERS-HAVORN-FRA-KAMCHATKA.aspx

Picture of Steller's Sea Eagle up close and personal - don't forget to fix the underscore - www.naturescapes--net/portfolios/pics/userpics/10923/(underscore)DSC0149maw.jpg

Picture of stuffed Steller's Sea Eagle so you can see the whole bird - don't forget to fix the underscore - www.biodic.go--jp/center/spec/oowasi(underscore)e.html

Picture of a live Steller's Sea Eagle on the snow where it's easier to see the markings - www.surfbirds--com/Features/04yearlisters/2004yearrvw.html

San Diego Zoo – the video isn't that great but it has some cool pictures - don't forget to fix the underscores - www.sandiegozoo--org/animalbytes/t-stellers(underscore)sea(underscore)eagle.html

There's lots of pictures on the net if you go looking...


	8. Pansy

A/N: Ack. Don't give up on Hermione. I'm a bit indifferent towards her character in the books, but here in this story I've got _plans_… Plans, I tell you.

**Chapter 8 – Pansy**

_The Quibbler, Special Flyer,_ Monday, October 7, 1996

_**Current Count of Suitors: 3,452**_

_Most Admired Person:__ Elfrida Clagg. She was a true visionary. Not only was she the first woman chieftain of the Wizards' Council, a feat that speaks of her determination, but she was the first to actively work to preserve magical environments and species; one of the first things she did as Chieftainess was to protect the golden snidget. If not for her, we'd not have any golden snidgets alive today at all. Plus, she tried to get laws passed about recognizing legal rights for all magical beings. Just because everyone else kept her from enacting those laws doesn't mean that she should be any less honored for presenting them. I would love to have known her._

_Favorite Invention:__ Not the floo, that's for certain! I never can land right, no matter what I do. I'd have to say the broom. I really love to fly._

Harry read his letter from "D" and indulged in the occasional snicker as he read about one of his suitor's youthful adventures. Who knew that Draco Malfoy was a closet skinny-dipper? Draco maintained that such illicit baths were much more invigorating than a boring shower and were, of course, healthier for the skin, and the healthier and more sensitive skin thus gained necessitated appropriately soft undergarments. Harry didn't buy that explanation for a second, but it was definitely a nice creative excuse for that week's gift; Harry now found himself in possession of ten each t-shirts, boxers, socks and handkerchiefs.

"Underwear?" Hermione asked in disbelief. The surrounding students looked a bit appalled at her statement and stared at Harry uncertainly.

"What's wrong with it?" Harry asked, somewhat surprised that his friends and housemates seemed offended on his behalf

"Well," Hermione said uncomfortably, glancing around for support, "It just seems a bit…too personal."

Harry blinked in surprise and furrowed his brows in thought. "I suppose," he said slowly. "I don't see anything wrong with it, though. I mean, he is working on filling out my wardrobe and these are considered an integral part, are they not?"

"Well, yes," Hermione agreed reluctantly. "Still."

"Still what?" Harry asked curiously. Really, he _liked _the present. Why was everybody so flustered?

"It's just not something that you send as a present," Ginny explained calmly while unconcernedly loading more eggs onto her plate. "Even for a courting gift."

"Oh," Harry said, still somewhat clueless. "But they're quite nice. And they're silk." He lifted one of the t-shirts partway out of the box to show his housemates.

Hermione blushed. "Yes, well…"

Ginny grinned at Harry and said, "Such things are usually gifts between lovers."

Harry blinked, then nodded, then smirked, and said, "Well, he is trying to get into my pants eventually, so I guess these are quite appropriate."

Ginny, Lavender, and Parvati giggled, Dean, Seamus and Neville lost their looks of discomfort and smirked back at him, and Hermione turned even redder. Harry grinned at his friend unrepentantly. How he loved riling her up!

"So, you like them," Hermione said, determined not to be conquered by her embarrassment.

"Very much, actually," Harry said as he carefully tucked his t-shirt back into its box.

"Then that's that," Hermione said decisively. "No one is to give Harry a hard time about his present." The girl followed up her command with a glare to her fellow students. A few snickers and giggles met her rather unnecessary proclamation. As far as they were concerned, if Harry was happy, then they were happy.

Harry placed his gift into his ever-present bag and asked for the pancake platter. As he doctored his pancakes to his liking, he considered the evidently risqué gift from Draco. He liked the gift, no doubt about it. He did wonder, though, if Draco's gift was in line with what was likely a crusade to replace his wardrobe, or if the blond actually knew a bit more than what Harry might have expected.

He had certainly not advertised the fact – indeed, he had tried to keep it hidden – but he had never had his _own _undergarments in his entire life. He wore Dudley's cast off pants and shirts, but he drew the line at wearing the fat, smelly pig's underwear, especially since he would have had to tie the huge garments in place somehow. Wearing a too big t-shirt under a too big shirt had seemed pointless to him, so he hadn't worn those either. The socks he'd received had always had holes, and usually were much too big since they most often came from Vernon, so unless he was _really _cold he had taken to not bothering wearing them at all. And he'd never owned a handkerchief in his life.

He thought it might take a bit of getting used to, to start wearing undergarments on a regular basis, but it was something he was going try anyway now that he had nice silk ones waiting for him.

_The Quibbler, Special Flyer,_ Monday, October 14, 1996

_**Current Count of Suitors: 3,946**_

_Favorite Place:__ I'd prefer not to say at this time. I will say that the place has a nice garden, though, that I like to picnic in when the weather's nice. _

_Favorite Store:__ It's actually not Quality Quidditch Supplies, despite the fact that I love to fly. My favorite store is actually Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. I'm not sure what that says about me, but I just love all the different types of ice cream there and the flavors are constantly changing. And have you seen all the different toppings and syrups you can get? You could have something different every day for years and years…_

Harry examined the sweaters that had arrived that morning and was quite pleased. There were four very nice wool sweaters of varying styles and all of them of the finest quality. Considering it was cold that morning, Harry took off his robes and pulled on the thick dark green cable-knit sweater. He ran his hands over the soft wool before replacing his robe.

"Harry! You can't wear that now! It's not the proper uniform," Hermione scolded.

"And I'm not going to make it to class," Harry said in annoyance, waving an arm over his bag as a reminder to his friend of all the letters he had received that morning. "I hardly see the problem with me being warm."

"Well, maybe," Hermione said reluctantly. "Do you think there are a lot of new suitors in today's mail? Or just older ones wanting to remind you about themselves?"

Harry sighed in disgust and glared at his bag. "Both, I'm sure, but I bet half of them are from new suitors." He had received double the usual amount of mail this morning and he was not looking forward to responding to a bunch of latecomers.

"Oh, Harry, I'm sorry. I'd help you if you'd let me," Hermione said sadly.

"I know, Hermione. It's OK. I'll be fine," Harry replied with a small smile for his friend.

"At least the deadline is Thursday," she said hopefully. "You won't have to do this for much longer."

"No, then the fun will really start," Harry said cynically.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked in alarm.

"Nevermind," Harry sighed, waving off her concern.

"But, Harry!" Hermione protested.

"Nevermind," Harry said again, shaking his head.

"But…" Hermione started again.

"He just means that he'll have to start the evaluations," Neville said, quickly interrupting the girl before she could annoy Harry. "He might not get anything from new suitors, but he'll still have to deal with all the current ones. Not only will they probably still send him letters and gifts but he'll have to start meeting with them as well."

"Oh, of course," Hermione said, a bit embarrassed. "I guess that will be just as bad in its own way, won't it?"

Harry shrugged and looked away. He both was and wasn't looking forward to Saturday. He was going to have to keep his magic open for a goodly number of hours and just the thought of thousands of other people's magic sliding across his own, even if only for a few moments each, made him shudder. On the other hand, he was hoping to eliminate a good third or more of the suitors with his tests.

With luck, the amount of mail he received should positively plummet come next week. Then again, maybe not. His first tests were going to allow him to summarily dismiss a lot of his suitors. He might just find himself inundated with angry letters holding various claims of "no fair!"

Merlin, he hoped not.

--HPDM--

"So what do you think is going to happen tomorrow?" Pansy asked from where she sat cross-legged on Draco's bed.

"I've no idea," Draco said with his head buried in his wardrobe. He seriously doubted he'd actually be meeting Harry face to face tomorrow, but he was going to dress nice anyway. The trick was that he had to dress nice but not so nice that people would get suspicious about why he was wearing such clothes for a simple Hogsmeade trip.

"You don't think you'll actually meet him, do you?" Pansy asked curiously.

Draco snorted and didn't bother to answer.

"Good," Pansy said approvingly. "I think you should wear that gray sweater Theo bought you for your birthday."

Draco looked over to his friend in disbelief. "What? Why? That has got to be the absolutely most boring thing I own. I don't know why I even keep it around."

"And that's why it's perfect," Pansy said firmly. "You're disguising yourself tomorrow so you don't want to wear anything that anybody will remember and subsequently associate with you."

Draco stared at his friend a moment then grimaced and dutifully dug out the offending garment and tossed in on the bed. "Anything else?" he asked sarcastically.

Pansy grinned at Draco's disgruntlement and said, "Yes, dear. You should wear those gray robes from last Christmas and a pair of dark gray trousers."

"Great," Draco said in disgust. "Boring _and _monochromatic." Nevertheless, he brought out the suggested clothing items, knowing that Pansy was right. He couldn't afford for anybody to realize that he had attended Harry's…whatever it was.

"You'll look gorgeous anyway, don't worry," Pansy reassured him.

Draco sighed but nodded and placed his choices off to the side in readiness for tomorrow.

"I'm worried about you, dear," Pansy said softly.

Draco looked up from his task then went over to his bed and sat next to his friend. "Don't be. You don't need to be. Everything's fine."

"You're putting so much into this and if you fail tomorrow…" Pansy said worriedly.

"Hush," Draco said and put a finger over Pansy's lips. "I'm only putting so much into this because I know I have a decent chance. And I won't fail tomorrow."

Draco pressed his finger more firmly to his friend's lips when she went to protest. "Ah, ah, ah. I know you think I've got some fantasy roaming around in my head, and I do, but I'm also being realistic about it. I know I can make a good impression if I get the chance."

Pansy moved Draco's hand away and said soberly, "You had a chance once, Draco, and see what came of it?"

"A chance ruined by the presence of a ruffian. Alone, I'm certain things would have been different," Draco asserted.

"Draco…" Pansy said in agitation but trailed off, unable to voice her concerns.

"Look," Draco said and brought his legs up to take his own cross-legged position on the bed. "Do you really think any of the other suitors know Harry as well as I do?"

"I don't think you know him that well," Pansy protested.

"I don't," Draco agreed, "But I know him better than any of the others, I think."

When Pansy simply looked at him doubtfully, Draco asked, "Whose presents does he open as soon as he gets them?"

"Maybe," Pansy conceded doubtfully. "I still say that's because of Nichol."

"The first time was certainly because of Nichol," Draco agreed, "But after? No, I'm sure it's because I've made a good impression in my letters and with my gifts."

"He does like your gifts," Pansy said with a small smile. "I'll give you that."

"Of course he does," Draco said smugly.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "I don't see how you know what to get him."

"It's easy," Draco avowed with an innocent expression. "I'm giving him the kinds of gifts that he wants _and_ they're well thought out."

"How do you _know_?" Pansy asked in frustration. This was one question Draco hadn't been inclined to answer in the past month or so. "By all rights, he should have been dreadfully offended by the undergarments and none of the clothes you've sent have been all that remarkable. Prove to me you know him well enough to have a good chance tomorrow. Tell me _why _Harry Potter likes your gifts so much."

"Because they suit him," Draco said simply then held up his hands at Pansy's scowl. "Harry may dress worse than a Weasley but he likes nice things. I've seen him eye Finch-Fletchley's clothes, and Zabini's, and even mine. Everything I've sent him is all of the highest quality and of styles similar to those I've seen him admiring; no prints but lots of texture, unusual cuts instead of traditional styles, details like decorative stitching and fancy buttons but nothing flashy. Do you see?"

Pansy nodded thoughtfully. Yes, she did see. Now that she thought about it, the clothes she had seen Potter wearing on the weekends this past month were all like Draco had described, though they weren't all Draco's gifts. "And the undergarments? Why did he like those instead of getting offended?"

Draco got a serious expression on his face and said, "Because he didn't have any before."

"Of course he did!" Pansy protested.

"No, he didn't," Draco denied firmly.

"How would you know?" Pansy asked incredulously. "Were you spying on the Gryffindor locker room or something?"

Draco shrugged a bit and looked away. "I have various sources for that information." He did, too, and not one of them was from spying on the locker rooms. Well, not _his _spying on the locker rooms, at least. "Rest assured that Harry's disgusting wardrobe held not a single undergarment. That's why he liked them. That's why I sent so many instead of just a few."

Pansy was quiet. Draco only took that tone when he was he was dead certain. The thought that Potter may not have had any undergarments prior to Draco's gift was decidedly disturbing, so Pansy decided to drop that line of questioning completely. "And the ring? The book?"

Draco was just as willing to drop the subject and grinned and stood up to finish preparing for tomorrow. "The ring was for several reasons. One, Nichol prefers to land on a fist instead of a flat surface and there is no way anyone can take her claws without protection. Two, I figured Harry could use it when dealing with his own owl and whenever he did he would be reminded of me." Draco gave Pansy a pointed look.

"Yes, yes, all right," Pansy said in annoyance. "So he uses the ring every single day. Get on with it!"

"And is therefore reminded of me every single day," Draco said with a smirk. "Three, Harry likes practical, as evidenced by the attention he gives to different lessons. And, four, great-grandmother had it on hand."

Pansy blinked at the last reason before staring at her friend in shock. "You sent him a present because you _had it on hand?"_ she asked in disbelief.

"Only partially," Draco said defensively. "The other reasons did come first, you know. And, besides, I'm sure I wasn't the only one."

Pansy shook her head in bemusement. "No," she said, "probably not."

"The book," Draco continued, setting out a novel to take with him tomorrow, "was because of his stated interest in other cultures. Pretty simple reason."

"He reads that all the time, you know. He and Granger read one chapter every night," Pansy said teasingly.

Draco grimaced. "While I would prefer he _not_ share with anyone, I'm glad to know he likes it so much. I wish he'd talk more about which cultures he likes best, though."

"Why?" Pansy asked curiously. "Not that I won't try to find out for you."

"Because," Draco said shortly and set about casting shoe-shine charms on his boots.

Pansy raised her eyebrows but didn't question further. "Did you know that ever since he said Montgomery was his favorite author a couple weeks ago that he's been getting the different books of the series? You know the ones, the small books with the individual chapters."

Draco snorted, "I'm not surprised. I wonder if he'll get the whole series that way."

"He might," Pansy said, "Fifty-six different chapter books have already mysteriously ended up in the Hogwarts library."

"Really?" Draco asked in surprise, putting his boots aside. Pansy nodded and Draco shook his head. "Honestly, aren't these people capable of independent thought? Must they wait for these little tidbits from _The Quibbler _to get gift ideas?"

"I don't see why you're complaining," Pansy said in amusement. "It just means that you're better than them."

Draco tilted his head and thought a moment. Then he nodded, grinned, and said, "An excellent point, my dear. I withdraw my objections to their blatant mediocrity."

Pansy grinned back and offered, "Six different books about Elfrida Clagg have also mysteriously ended up in the library."

Draco laughed and returned to his friend. He took a seat on the bed and leaned back against one of the bedposts and stretched his long legs out in front of him. "How about ones on magical species conservation?"

"Not yet. But…," she said teasingly.

"But what?" Draco asked, smiling at his friend's antics, "Don't leave me hanging!"

"There are _two_ copies each of eight different books on the rights of magical beings plus single copies of another twelve books," Pansy said.

"Merlin," Draco said with a grimace. "Any of them the good ones or are they all the popular tripe?"

"There's one copy of _Beings,"_ Pansy said with her own grimace. "Otherwise…"

"Lovely," Draco said with a sigh. "Platitudes without substance. Just what belongs in a school library."

"It's better than nothing," Pansy said adamantly with a scowl.

"True," Draco said, holding up his hands in surrender.

"Back to Potter's gifts," Pansy said firmly.

Draco raised an eyebrow and drawled out, "Yes?"

"He's received probably close to a thousand music marbles," Pansy said, "all of which he's kept so far though no one's heard him listening to them. Tons of books have come about kneazles, many of which have ended up in the library. He's received countless green shirts and robes and even quilts. Nearly every single cookbook he's received has ended up with the house elves…"

"What?" Draco interrupted in surprise.

Pansy gave him a superior look. "There's a reason we've had such lovely desserts this last month."

"But…" Draco said, trying to get his thoughts together.

"Evidently Potter has no intention of ever cooking in his life," Pansy said. "All cookbooks, and I do mean _all_, even the ones that weren't about desserts, have gone either straight to the house elves or else to the library. It seems he's giving the house-elves the first runs and the library the duplicates."

Draco narrowed his eyes thoughtfully at that piece of information. It made sense, really, given the information he'd received from his little friends. That knowledge tidbit could be quite useful.

"And," Pansy said with a flourish, "he's probably received enough green tea to last a decade."

"You know," Draco said slowly, "I wonder if he really does like green tea."

Pansy looked at him in surprise. "Why would you wonder that?"

"It might just be a way for him to reinforce the fact that he likes other cultures. That he likes oriental cultures, specifically. That he wants out," Draco said thoughtfully.

"Maybe," Pansy said dubiously. "But it could just mean that he likes green tea."

"Could be," Draco said with a smile for his friend. "Could be."

--HPDM—

Pansy ambled through the library, ostensibly looking for some off-the-wall topic to read about this week. She'd carefully cultivated a reputation for eccentric reading when she first arrived at Hogwarts. And she did read the books she picked up and checked out. The best cover was the truth, after all. What she was really doing, however, was walking by all the study rooms and eavesdropping for interesting tidbits of information to pursue.

So far today she'd picked up quite a number of rumors. McGonagall had an outside lover and that's why she looked younger – Pansy felt it was probably more likely that the woman had starting using some wrinkle-away cream. Flitwick had a new lover and that's why he was even more cheerful than usual – obviously none of the gossipers kept tabs on the man's dueling involvement and didn't know that Flitwick has just won the mid-senior dueling competition for Britain. There were several more rumors about students that had supposedly gained mysterious lovers – some of them she thought might actually be true. And, of course, there were the faithful reports on who was dating whom this week and the general free-for-all speculation about who had a crush on whom.

Then there was the talk about Potter. There was always talk about Potter, of course, but lately it was centered on Potter's Veela heritage. Most of the rumors were ridiculous and Pansy dismissed them utterly. The more sensible gossipers – and she wondered if that could be considered an oxymoron – proposed various scenarios as to how Potter had become a Veela. Some even seemed plausible.

Having learned nothing of new interest from her meanderings, Pansy left the library to meet with Padma, her link to Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, and Isolde, her link to Hufflepuff. She made her way leisurely to the kitchens, catching bits of conversation from passing schoolmates. As usual, she kept track of the paintings as she walked and just what bits of conversation were said in front of them; you never knew when it might be good to know just what others – and not just the headmaster and teachers – might be able to glean from the magical busybodies.

Pansy eventually made it to the kitchen with several minutes to spare. She sat at the small corner table and was immediately served a platter holding a good dozen different types of sweets. "This is lovely!" Pansy exclaimed. "You've had the best sweets lately. Is this from another of your new cookbooks?"

"Oh, yes, Missy Pansy!" the little elf said, its ears flopping about with the exuberance of its nodding. "The Great Harry Potter gives us two booksies on sweets yesterday!"

"That was very nice of him," Pansy said as she picked up a sweet decorated with purple sprinkles. "He must come down here often, then. Wasn't he here last week, too?"

The house-elf's ears started flopping again as it nodded. "He's be coming _four_ timesies since Mondays."

"Do you enjoy his company?" Pansy asked politely and listened carefully as the house-elf expanded upon the wonders of The Great Harry Potter. She needed to do a lot of editing, but the house-elves were an amazing source of information. She nodded and exclaimed in all the right places to get the elf to keep talking until her friends arrived. Once they did, the little elf raced away and quickly brought back two more platters of sweets.

"We'll get fat eating all these," Padma said worriedly.

"Just wrap them up and take them back to your housemates," Pansy said, picking up a blue-sprinkled sweet this time. "Slowly, though, or we'll just have another too-tempting platter before us."

Padma and Isolde nodded and each picked up what appeared to be a lemon tart with candied lemon peel. This was a common start for them: complain, eat a few sweets, get down to business.

"So what is up with Mandy?" Padma asked as she surreptitiously wrapped her second and third lemon tart in a conjured napkin and placed them in her bag.

"Ethan dumped her," Pansy said with a sniff. "Said that she was too flighty."

"More like he wanted in her robes and she wouldn't let him," Isolde said disparagingly. "I heard him telling Justin that she wasn't worth pursuing because he hadn't even been able to get a kiss out of her in over a month."

"I told her that he was a boor and to watch out for him," Pansy said. "That's probably why she didn't allow him any liberties. Still, she kind of liked him and is a bit depressed that I turned out to be right."

It was Isolde's turn to sniff. "She's better off without him."

"Definitely," Pansy agreed. "What's up with Eddie?"

"His plant died," Padma said. "He's only going to get an acceptable for the herbology project even he gets an exceeds on the paper."

"Maybe he should have watered it," Isolde suggested and all three girls giggled.

They talked for a while about the love lives and scandals of their schoolmates before moving on to the love lives and scandals of various sports, music, and miscellaneous celebrities. Inevitably, they cycled through to Harry Potter.

"So, you want to hear the latest?" Padma said as she leaned forward conspiratorially.

The other two girls leaned in eagerly. They always talked about other things first, but all knew that Harry Potter and the latest scandals surrounding him were the juiciest tidbits. That's why they saved him until last.

Pansy diligently noted everything Padma said and carefully placed each fact in her mental file. There was nothing that was really new about the current Gryffindors. Weasley was still an idiot. Brown and Longbottom were still becoming closer to Potter. Ginny was still maintaining a causal friendship. Granger was still a friend and seemed to be getting better. No, the interesting bits were Potter's gifts and his responses to them.

The headmaster and the teachers weren't the only ones who watched Potter as he opened his mail. There were quite a number of students who now spent their free periods in the Great Hall watching Potter as he opened his letters and presents. The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, by nature of the fact that they were able to sit closest, were always the ones with the most accurate reports. But Potter never talked during that time nor did he often have decipherable facial expressions. No, it was what he did later in the Gryffindor common room that was more interesting.

So Pansy listened closely, stockpiling information for when she could put it together into cohesive patterns that would tell her things, real things, about what was truly happening in the life of Harry Potter.


	9. Round One

A/N: I'm glad everyone seems to like Pansy. I'm trying to work her into something more than a simple adjunct. I hope I pull it off well enough.

Just in case anyone missed the note in chapter 5: Cecil Bruner is a type of rose. My mother-in-law's bush is 15 feet high by 30 feet wide by about 10 feet deep. It has hundreds of little pink roses when it blooms.

**Chapter 9 – Round One**

Draco leisurely made his way to the Cecil Bruner room at _The Rose Inn, _very glad that he had decided to leave for this gathering so early. Even now, at half past eight, the number of suitors arriving was surprising; he was wending his way towards the room with probably about fifty other suitors. He wondered when the rush would start and if everyone would make it into the room on time. He wondered if anything would happen if they didn't.

He took a seat in one of the chairs close to the entrance and looked around in interest. The room was set up like a stadium, with tiered seating surrounding a central area, thankfully with individual chairs and not hard benches. The seating, however, didn't start at floor level; instead it started about ten feet up. Since the room was two stories high, this posed no great problem. All around the room, the space under the seating was closed off with what were obviously temporary walls with equally obviously temporary doors. He counted forty of these mysterious doors, all closed. The central area held what appeared to be a ten foot by ten foot glass enclosure, currently empty.

He took out his book and settled down to read for the next hour and a half.

Draco kept an occasional eye on the arriving suitors and his watch. As ten o'clock approached, he put away his book and looked at the entrance doors curiously. It hadn't escaped his notice that there was only _one _entrance, when he knew for a fact that the Cecil Bruner room had four sets of double doors. At precisely ten o'clock a chime sounded and a field of magic covered the entrance and the doors closed on not a few surprised faces.

An amused grin overtook Draco's face and he had to duck his head to hide it and then cover his mouth to keep from laughing when surprised and shocked murmurs swept through the assemblage. He had had a growing suspicion that something was going to happen right on the hour and he was pleased to know he was right. Maybe the number of suitors eliminated for their lack of timeliness would be reported in _The Quibbler._

A few minutes later, after the last of the stragglers had found seats, one of the mystery doors opened and two people wearing hooded cloaks walked to the glass enclosure. A bit of spellwork opened an archway in one of the sides and the two people entered, the glowing archway disappearing behind them. A table and two chairs were conjured by the taller person and the shorter figure took off his cloak and set it on the back of one of the chairs, revealing a well-dressed Harry Potter. Harry sat down and looked up towards the second figure. Murmuring went through the crowd until a voice was heard.

"Good morning. Welcome to the Cecil Bruner room of _The Rose Inn._ My name is immaterial; however, my occupation is not. I am the chaperone. I will be present at any and all meetings between Harry Potter and his suitors. For now, I would like to take this opportunity to let you know that you have passed the first test – that of respect through punctuality. Before you leave today, you will be subjected to a second test. That is, if you so desire. You are under no obligation to participate."

A chaperone! Where had Harry gotten a chaperone? It was the proper thing to do, especially given Harry's prominence, but where had he found someone that he trusted with his protection? Draco wondered if the chaperone was also the past summer's tutor; it would make sense. Draco focused his attention back on the chaperone as the cloaked man started talking once again.

"As you have undoubtedly noticed, there are several doors around the perimeter of the…arena. Each door leads to one of forty temporary booths that have been established. Each booth can be entered from this area but can be exited only towards the outside. Once out the other side of the booths, you may find a regular exit and leave. You may not return."

There was a bit of disgruntled murmuring but Draco merely nodded his head absently. It made perfect sense to him. Process the mass of people through whatever test was coming up and get them out as efficiently as possible. There were too many suitors here to do much else.

"Before you enter a booth, it is your choice whether or not to walk by Mr. Potter. Mr. Potter will have his magic unfurled so that you may get a feel for the compatibility between him and yourself before you commit to continuing in this courtship. Please do not bother trying to get Mr. Potter's attention. This enclosure is one-way visible, silenced, and stabilized. In other words, we cannot see you, we cannot hear you, and we cannot feel if you pound on the glass."

More disgruntled murmurs rose from the crowd and Draco had to hold back a snort of disgust. Honestly, what had these people thought? That they would be getting a private meeting? It had been known for over a month that every suitor was being invited to the same place at the same time and last week's suitor count had been nearly four thousand!

"Please listen carefully to the following instructions. Any suitor that does not follow these instructions will be summarily dismissed."

The entire gathering was instantly silent.

"Each booth holds a small table and chair. Upon your entrance, a half sheet of parchment and a quill will appear. The parchment holds a few questions; these questions comprise the second test. Should you choose to participate, all questions are to be answered briefly with the quill provided. Once you have completed answering the questions on the parchment, you are to leave the parchment and quill on the table. You may then leave."

The chaperone paused for a moment to listen to something Harry was saying then nodded.

"Mr. Potter does ask that you let him know if you decide to withdraw from the courtship. You may do this today using the provided parchment or through personal missive at a later time. You do not need to provide a reason."

"Thank you for your attention. That is all. You may begin."

During the resulting shocked silence, the chaperone took the second seat but remained cloaked. The mystery man and his charge then started what appeared to be an animated conversation. Draco was sure _The Daily Prophet_ was going to be full of speculation tomorrow over his identity; he'd seen Rita Skeeter earlier and was certain there was any number of other reporters in the room.

Draco wondered at the seemingly odd test. A few questions? They must be pretty important, but for the life of him Draco hadn't a clue what they might be. He was roused from his ponderings as people started moving towards Harry and after a few more moments decided the peculiarities of the test didn't really matter.

As he was already familiar with Harry's magic from their encounters at school, Draco wasn't going to waste any time walking by the central enclosure and stood to make his way towards one of the booths. To his surprise, quite a number of other people were also going directly to the exits and he wondered at their reasoning; if he hadn't already known that Harry's magic was compatible with his, he would certainly have tried to find that out before committing himself to a courtship. He dismissed his thoughts and waited patiently in line by one of the booths.

Despite being fourth in line, the wait wasn't long, perhaps ten minutes, and he entered the small booth still wondering at the nature of the questions. There must be _something _about the questions that was going to allow Harry to eliminate suitors. He picked up the brightly-colored and highly-plumed quill and read the first question on the parchment.

"_What was the name or alias that you used when you first contacted me?"_

A sensible question that would allow Harry to file the parchments with previously received letters. Draco wrote "D" and continued to the next question.

"_What is the year of your birth?"_

Draco wrote "1980" and wondered why Harry was asking that question. Someone could easily lie if their birth year was out of Harry's established range. Draco paused and stared at the parchment and quill contemplatively. Then again, maybe not. If Harry was using Auror's parchment and quill, which was spelled against written perjury… Draco continued to the next question.

"_Are you a male?"_

"Yes," Draco wrote, smirking. He'd seen a number of women and knew they would be summarily eliminated from the pool of suitors.

"_During our initial mating, where would you insert your penis?"_

Draco's eyebrows rose at the last question and he started to laugh. "Oh, very clever, Harry. Very, very clever."

As Draco wrote what he knew to be the correct answer he wondered just how many of the thousands of suitors in the meeting hall would stare at the question in confusion. Draco suspected that over half of them would give the seemingly obvious, but nevertheless incorrect, answer.

The question was an easy way to eliminate those people who hadn't bothered to do any research about x-male half-Veela in the six weeks since the information had come out about Harry's heritage. Draco just knew that Harry was going to summarily dismiss anybody who answered incorrectly and Draco couldn't blame him. He figured that if a suitor couldn't be bothered to learn basic information about their potential mate then they certainly didn't deserve said mate and obviously Harry felt the same way. Draco couldn't wait to see the count of suitors come Monday.

--HPDM--

Albus knocked his spoon against his teacup a few times and the gathered wizards and witches quieted and focused their attention at the head of the table. "We're gathered to discuss the impressions of our suitors at Harry's testing today. Alastor, would you start, please?"

"Sure, Albus," Moody said with a shrug then pulled out a postcard from his pocket and lightly tossed it onto the table in front of him. "I received this postcard not thirty minutes after I left _The Rose Inn._ It very politely states that I'm too old."

Albus picked up the postcard and took half a minute to read it before passing it along. "I see. Well, that's not unexpected."

"No, but the fact I received it so quickly is suspect," Moody said with a scowl.

"No, I don't think so," Elphias argued with a shake of his head. "I sat and watched Mr. Potter for quite a while. A couple minutes after the start, Potter took several boxes and stacks of postcards out of a bag he was carrying. He and his chaperone were constantly filling out what looked like four different types of postcards. There was a box in front of them – I figured it must have been a magical in-box linked to all those tables in the booths – that they would pick up a parchment from and then address one of the postcards. The parchment was then placed into a second box, the postcards into a third box and they would start all over. If that third box was a magical out-box linked to a post service…"

Moody nodded and said, "Then first ones in would be the first ones to get a response. Efficient."

"Have you received a similar postcard, Elphias?" Albus asked.

Elphias shook his head. "No, not yet. I imagine I'll get one, though, if Alastor has."

"Marcus?" Albus asked, turning to another of the Order's hopeful suitors.

"No," the man said. "I won't, though, since I put 1951 for my birth year instead of 1946. I can easily pass for five years younger."

Moody barked a laugh and said, "Oh, you'll be getting a dismissal, too. That was Auror quill and parchment the lad was using."

Everyone turned their attention back to Moody and Albus said, "Perhaps you should continue your report, Alastor."

Moody nodded. "As I was saying, I got that," he gestured towards the postcard now at the opposite end of the table, "about thirty minutes after I left. I thought it meant that the entrance was being watched, but maybe not. I got there at eight o'clock and took a seat as close to the entrance as possible and watched everyone arriving."

Moody took a roll of parchment from his robes and passed it to Albus. "I made a list of everyone I saw that I could name. There were 137 people who came wearing glamours of some type. I could see through 98 of them. Mostly it was women looking like men, fat men looking skinny, and old men looking young. I noted the ones I knew that were glamoured," he waved at the parchment. "Every suspected Death Eater that isn't an escaped convict was there as well, including Snape here."

"I was aware that Severus would be there. He was commanded to make an attempt by Voldemort," Albus said before too many muttered protests could be heard. Severus merely grimaced as Albus continued, "When you say every Death Eater, do you mean including the women and the married males?"

"Yes, indeed," Moody answered with a grim smile.

"Interesting," Albus said and set the parchment aside to pick up his tea. "Please continue."

"The room was set up like a stadium with a secure enclosure at the center. At precisely ten o'clock a magical barrier blocked the entrance. Everyone took a seat and Potter and another man came out. Both were cloaked at first but Potter removed his once inside the enclosure. The other man didn't. I couldn't see through it so I imagine the lad warned his chaperone about my eye," Moody said with an annoyed scowl.

"Chaperone?" Albus asked with raised eyebrows.

Several of the suitors nodded and Moody continued his report. "The man introduced himself only as the chaperone, refusing to give a name, then issued instructions and sat down. With nothing more to see, I went to one of the booths, answered the questions, and left."

"These questions…?" Albus asked leadingly.

"Name, age, gender, and how to go about sex," Moody stated, ticking them off on his fingers. "The quill and parchment were Auror quality anti-perjury grade with what looked to be a fifteen minute delay on the color change. Potter will be able to eliminate anyone who lies, or doesn't use the quill, but other than that," Moody shrugged and spread his hands, "I don't see how those questions are going to be much help to the lad."

Two snorts were heard from the opposite side of the table and Albus asked, "You have something to add, Bill? Charlie?"

The two brothers exchanged calculating looks and Bill answered, "At the end, I think. Let everyone else go first."

Albus eyed them a moment but said, "Very well. Kingsley?"

Kingsley pulled out his own postcard and rolled parchment. Passing both towards the head of the table, he said, "I've nothing more to add. The people I recognized are on the parchment. I was also dismissed, but my postcard says it was for an incorrect answer to question four, although, for the life of me, I've no idea what the correct answer is if mine was wrong."

Two snickers were heard, sounding remarkably like the Weasley twins but weren't. Albus again turned his gaze to the eldest Weasley sons, "Boys?"

Bill waved a hand and bit his lip while Charlie covered his mouth with a hand. Several people narrowed their eyes suspiciously at the redheads, although, if anybody had looked, they would have seen a decidedly amused smirk on the face of Severus Snape.

Of the fourteen suitors from the Order, all but two had immediately headed for the exits and subsequently received postcards within an hour of taking their leave. Elphias and Marcus, the two that had stayed longer at Harry's meeting, were expected to receive dismissals due to age, the same as Alastor Moody. Eight men, including Fred and George, had been dismissed due to an incorrect answer to question four. By the time it was Severus' turn to report, everyone except Bill and Charlie was highly confused about what could be the right answer to the last question Harry had asked.

"I have received a postcard and, unfortunately, have passed into the next round of testing," Severus said with a decidedly sour expression on his face and disgust in his tone. "Beyond that, I have nothing to add other than the Dark Lord ordered all his followers to enter the courtships. Some of those glamours that couldn't be seen through were likely convicted Death Eaters."

"So you know the right answer to question four!" Hestia exclaimed.

"I do. However, I'll let them explain," Severus smirked and nodded towards Bill and Charlie.

Everyone turned eagerly to Bill and Charlie, both obviously trying not to grin.

"You first," Bill said to his brother.

"Oh, no. You first. I insist," Charlie replied.

"No, no. Your knowledge is newer, I'm certain. You go first," Bill said.

"Really, Bill. Age bef…" Charlie said before being interrupted.

"Boys!" Albus said sharply. "Bill, you report."

"I passed," Bill said simply. "And, yes, I know the right answer. Charlie?"

"I passed," Charlie said, no longer bothering to hide his grin.

"What my brother here has failed to mention is that the rest of you are all, uh, _dunderheads_, was it, Professor?" Bill said sweetly to Severus.

Severus smirked and said, "Absolutely."

"And why is that?" Albus asked sternly, looking at Severus, Bill, and the now snickering Charlie over the top of his glasses.

"Why, because the lot of you obviously couldn't be bothered with basic research," Bill said innocently. "How much was the book, Charlie? Two galleons, wasn't it?"

Charlie merely nodded and continued snickering.

"What book?" Emmaline asked in irritation.

"Ah, that would be the first book anybody should read if they want to learn about Veela," Bill said mockingly. "The nice, general, easy-read book with pictures entitled _An Introduction to Veela_that was written by the Veela Council over three centuries ago. The language has been updated through the years but the text has remained basically unchanged."

"Where did you hear about this book," Arthur asked curiously.

"Well, I heard about it from Fleur," Bill answered with a shrug. "I don't know about Charlie."

Charlie stopped snickering and answered with a snort of amusement, "I sent a letter to the Veela Council asking for information."

"Really, Charlie?" Bill said with mock astonishment. "What a concept! I'd have never thought!"

Charlie burst into laughter and Bill now started snickering.

"What these two hooligans are avoiding saying is a that a quick scan of _An Introduction to Veela_ would have given you the answer you are seeking. You wouldn't have even had to read very far; I do believe the answer is in chapter two," Severus said condescendingly. "That you couldn't figure out how to send a post owl with a simple request to the one place that would be certain to have factual information says much about you. Or, perhaps, says little about you. It's no wonder the brat eliminated the lot of you."

Albus looked disapprovingly at Severus, Bill and Charlie. "And why didn't you share this information with the Order?"

Bill shrugged and said with a grin, "It didn't cross my mind."

"I allow I did not consider it," Severus said with a scowl when Albus' gaze turned to him.

Charlie gave one last snicker and said, "It didn't occur to me, either. I mean, _I _thought of sending a letter straight to the source, why should I have thought that all of you wouldn't have done the same?"

"It's a great question, though," Bill said thoughtfully. "It certainly eliminates a lot of people. Only three of us passed out of thirteen, or fourteen, I guess, since Professor Snape joined in. I wonder if that will be the percentage overall?"

"Maybe it will and maybe it won't," George said with a shrug. "I want to know what the right answer is, though. You've said everything but."

So Bill answered them. Several minutes later saw the Order members faces covered with various expressions of amazement, bemusement, revulsion, curiosity, embarrassment, annoyance, and amusement.

There was much disappointment, but the relevance of Harry's question was no longer challenged.

--HPDM--

_The Quibbler, Special Flyer,_ Monday, October 21, 1996

_**Total Count of Suitors: 4,192**_

_**Our second interview with Harry Potter will be in tomorrow's regular October edition!**_

_Excerpts from __An Introduction to Veela__, edited by The Veela Council will be printed weekly (with permission). Copies of the book may be purchased for two galleons each by owling The Veela Council._

_Chapter 1 - Doubled Biology – Hawk & Human_

"How was your weekend, Harry?" Hermione asked politely. "Did you get a lot done?"

Under the near constant barrage from Neville and Lavender, Hermione had actually lessened her questions of Harry and her demands for explanations about the specifics of his situation. She was perhaps a bit cool towards him at the moment but Harry had begun to wonder if he might be able to salvage one close friendship after all. Ron was a total loss, though, he and Harry not having spoken more than a dozen civil words to each other in the past six weeks. Hermione, however…

"Yes, I did," Harry replied with a grin, remembering the rather surprising outcome of his weekend activities. "A lot more than I thought I would."

Hermione smiled back. "That's great, Harry! So what's the count?"

Harry waved his fork at her playfully and said, "Oh, no. I'm not telling. You'll have to wait for _The Quibbler_ just like everybody else." This had become a bit of a playful joke between him and his housemates the last few weeks. The next line in the little play would be…

"Come on, Harry! Give a break to your poor beleaguered housemates! We get stared at! We get interrogated! We pick up your mail! Surely we deserve a few minutes of smugly holding valuable knowledge over the rest of the school!"

Everyone stared at Seamus in varying degrees of surprise, amusement, and awe. Seamus' theatric monologue, dramatic pose and tragic look were just a bit beyond the standard "Come on, Harry, we're your friends!" Moments later the far end of the Gryffindor table erupted into laughter. Seamus joined in, removing his hands from where they were clutching his chest in exaggerated angst.

As the laughter died down, Neville asked, "Beleaguered? Where in the world did you come up with that, Seamus?"

"It's her fault," the grinning boy said, pointing directly at Hermione. "I heard her using it yesterday."

The confession/accusation garnered a few more snickers and even Hermione had a smile, though she tried her best to look offended.

Dean shook his head and nudged his friend, saying, "Well, the owls are coming, so we'll know in just a moment."

Harry gave a small smirk that Neville returned with raised eyebrows. Harry just grinned back. He knew full well that the information everyone was looking for wasn't in today's paper. It would be in tomorrow's. He couldn't wait to hear the groans of disappointment. He did have to hoard these little moments of harmless amusement, now didn't he?

Sure enough, a few minutes later groans could be heard from all over the Great Hall. There were several exclamations along the lines of "How could you leave us in suspense?" but his housemates still helped him gather his mail. As he had hoped, there wasn't nearly as much of it as there had been.

After the mail was collected and the owls gone, everybody looked up. It was a habit now, shared by the entire school, to look for the magnificent eagle as it came to deliver a package to Harry on Monday morning. Harry rose to provide the bird a landing spot on his fist and forearm. After weeks of practice – and a few strengthening exercises he hadn't told anyone about – he was able to take the eagle's landing without practically collapsing under the weight and force.

As he greeted the bird and untied the package, Harry listened to the small betting pool forming about the contents of this week's present. He got the package removed and managed a few pets before Nichol became impatient for her reward. He surrendered a piece of bacon from his plate, tied last week's thank you note to Nichol's free leg, and helped launch the eagle before taking his seat.

Placing his package in his lap, Harry said, "You know, I can't believe you guys are betting on my presents. Honestly."

"You know you think it's funny," Dean said with a grin, taking another bet for fancy shoes.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm stuck somewhere between disbelief, disgust, and horrified amusement," he declared haughtily.

"You just keep telling yourself that, Harry," Dean said, taking a third and forth bet for fancy shoes.

In truth, Harry didn't really begrudge them their fun. What Seamus had said earlier may have been in jest, but it was true nonetheless. His housemates _were _stared at, they _were _interrogated, they _did_ help him pick up his mail. Nobody lost more than a few knuts on these little pools, so Harry didn't truly object.

Harry sniffed in mock disdain and opened his letter, ignoring the snickers engendered from his antics as well as the eager anticipation of his schoolmates. Moments later Harry started to grin and then laughed. It seemed Draco was greatly amused by his final question and had laughed himself all the way out of the inn. He congratulated Harry on his cleverness and admitted to much enthusiasm in regards to reading the outcome of the group meeting. And, by the way, it had been quite nippy that morning, so he thought Harry might appreciate the enclosed gift of a heavy cloak.

Harry opened his package as surreptitiously as possible when surrounded by hordes of nosy housemates and ran a hand over the fine black fur. Draco's other gifts had been obviously of top quality, but still didn't necessarily scream money. This gift, however, did. While he was sure that the cloak was tasteful, there was no way anybody looking at it wouldn't know that it cost some serious galleons.

He covered his gift back up quickly before more than a glimpse of black fur could be seen and held out his hand for Dean's tally sheet. Dean passed it over willingly and Harry made a grand show of perusing it.

"What in the world is a chiffonier?" Harry asked Dean in puzzlement, pronouncing the odd word shif-**on**-ee-er.

"I don't know," Dean shrugged. "I just spelled it like I was told to."

"It's shif-uh-**neer**," one of the fifth year girls said. "In the muggle world it's like a chest of drawers with a mirror, and you can buy something like that in the wizard world, too, but what I meant was the chiffonier trunk. There's a specialized trunk you can buy that's designed just for clothes and accessories. People that travel a lot and need a big wardrobe when they do – like ambassadors and entertainers – use chiffoniers. It's better than a regular trunk for clothes." The girl shrugged and returned Harry's somewhat dumbfounded expression with a bright smile. "I figured since he was sending you all these clothes, it would be a logical thing."

"Uh, right," Harry said blankly, then shook his head and continued, "You know, that's actually a rather neat idea, if you're in the need for something like that. But," he said with a melodramatic sigh, "no go."

The girl gave a fake pout and accepted the playful condolences of the other pool contenders.

Harry adjusted his glasses with a stern professorial look and said, "What we have here today is two, yes, that's _two_, winners. Today's winnings go to Samantha Osgreeve and Hermione Granger."

Amongst the cheers and groans and Dean snagging back the tally sheet, Harry gave Hermione a mock scandalized look and said, "Falling into the vice of gambling, my dear? Whatever will your parents say?"

Hermione merely smiled and said, "Not to use it to buy sweets." She then turned to Dean and said, "Pay up."

Harry laughed at his friend and carefully snuck a hand into the package to once again pet the cloak. Ultra-soft fur from farmed-but-still-hideously-expensive black magical chinchillas sewn onto a base of naturally-deceased-not-hunted black dragon hide with preservation and featherweight spells as well as enchantments to stay closed, repel water, and discourage thieves. He couldn't imagine how much the thing might have cost.

Draco really was an excellent gift giver. Harry thought he might almost feel guilty should Draco be eliminated from the suitors.

Almost.

--end chapter--

A/N – Look, ma, a cliffie! Well, not exactly, but close! My original plan was to post chapter 10 with this one so that you all could have the answer. But then I thought – I'd really love to know what you come up with!


	10. Interview 2

A/N: For inspiration on certain LG questions in this chapter, thanks go to: iluvchocs & Immortal Sailor Cosmos. I'm sure you two will recognize what I added just for you!

I hope you all like my biological twists! Cookies! to the following people for getting close, or kind of close, to the answer to question 4: Artemisa-arcanum, Lena Yvonne, darrena, OccAmy Phyre, rowlinglover222, TorringMay, iluvchocs, Skyline Romance, blob, Liria Nai

**Chapter 10 – Interview 2**

_The Quibbler_, October Edition, Tuesday, October 22, 1996

_**Harry Potter Eliminates Majority of Suitors!**_

_**Read the exclusive interview with our very own Mr. Xenophilius Lovegood!**_

_Our second interview with Mr. Harry Potter covers the results of his first two tests of worthiness of his suitors as well as some surprising information. The Quibbler also presented to Mr. Potter some of the questions you, our faithful readers, proffered up to be asked. While Mr. Potter was most accommodating to our curiosity, please understand that we kept the intensely personal questions to a minimum. Below you will find our conversation that took place in Hogwarts' Great Hall on the morning of October 21st._

LG:"Good morning, Harry!"

HP:"Good morning!"

LG:"Well, shall we jump right to it?"

HP:"Absolutely."

LG:"Friday you provided the total number of suitors and, just in case anybody has missed it, the official count is 4,192."

HP:"That's right."

LG:"Goodness me. I can't imagine."

HP:"Neither can I, really, and I'm living it!"

LG:(chuckle) "And I thought I had a bad time in school trying to date!"

HP:"Yes, well."

LG:"All right, then. You've had a busy weekend, I understand. Was it productive?"

HP:"Yes, I did and yes, it was."

LG:"Good, good. I'm glad to hear it. Have you recovered? It must have been quite draining."

HP:"It was, but I'm fine today. I got a good night's sleep last night."

LG:"Did all those people actually show up?"

HP:"They might have. Only 3,869 made it on time, though."

LG:"And the, ah, let me do a quick sum here…"

HP:"The 123 that were late?"

LG:"Yes, exactly. No! That doesn't seem right, not if you started with 4,192."

HP:"There were exactly 200 women that I had declined previously that didn't come. Surprisingly, or maybe not, 21 of them _did _show up_. _ Anyway, by my calculations, that leaves an additional 123 that either didn't show or were late."

LG:"I see. All right. The 123 that were late, then. What happened with them? I heard a magical barrier was raised on the entrance?"

HP:"There was. They were eliminated."

LG:"Eliminated? For being late?"

HP:"Yes. They've known for ages when and where the meeting was going to be held and you've been publishing the count every week. Given the number of attendees, they should have known to allow plenty of time to arrive. Not doing so shows, at the very least, a lack of forethought and/or planning. At worst, it shows disrespect for myself and the situation. I don't need a mate like that."

LG:"I guess I can understand that. So, that was your first test?'

HP:"That's right."

LG:"And your second test?"

HP:"Only 1,029 passed my second test of worthiness."

LG:"Oh, my! That's a lot of suitors eliminated!"

HP:"Yes."

LG:"Well, well… So, Harry, how did you eliminate so many when you didn't even talk to anyone?"

HP:"It was easy. I asked four basic questions and eliminated the ones that gave unacceptable answers."

LG:"Well, don't leave us in suspense! What did you ask?"

HP:"Well, the first thing I asked was their name. So I could put their response with any previous letters they had sent me, you see. Nobody got eliminated from that question."

LG:"And the second question?"

HP:"Year of birth. Anybody that lied, or had a birth year outside 1950 to 1981 was eliminated."

LG:"How could you tell if someone lied?"

HP:"I had rented a bunch of Auror anti-perjury quills and the response parchments were spelled the same as Auror anti-perjury parchment. When someone lied in their answer the writing turned bright red. It was easy."

LG:"And everybody used those quills?"

HP:"Surprisingly, yes. I really thought I would be eliminating a few people for not following those directions, but I didn't."

LG:"Hmmm. And how many did you eliminate because of age?"

HP:"206."

LG:"And your next question?"

HP:"Gender. And I eliminated 193 with that question. If you include the women that wrote to me before the first article came out, there were a total of 414 women eliminated."

LG:"A lot, but not nearly close to the three thousand or so you say you've eliminated."

HP:"The rest of them were eliminated from the last question. It was a nice little trick question and I expected to get a third to a half with it, but it was actually closer to sixty percent."

LG:"Just one questions eliminated, let's see…"

HP:"2,420."

LG:"Right. What did you ask that could have had such an impact?"

HP:"At our initial mating, where would you insert your penis?"

LG:(pause) "I'm afraid I don't understand the importance of that question."

HP:(chuckle) "You and two thousand other people."

LG: "So…the obvious answer isn't the right one?"

HP:"Exactly. With that question, either you knew the right answer or you didn't. And if you didn't, well… if someone answered incorrectly then that told me that they hadn't done even basic research on x-male half-Veela. I don't have any desire to educate a potential mate, not to mention it's offensive that they obviously couldn't be bothered, and so I eliminated them."

LG:"And what is the right answer, if you don't mind me asking?"

HP:"I don't mind. My mate would need to insert his penis into my cloaca."

LG:"Cloaca. Isn't that bird anatomy?"

HP:"Yes. Veela and half-Veela are a magical mix of human anatomy and bird anatomy."

LG:"So…so…could you explain this a bit more?"

HP:"Sure. Humans have two external openings for waste, one for their bladder and one for their intestines. Females also have the vagina for sex and babies which makes three external openings for them. Birds, though, only have one external opening."

LG:"The cloaca. I remember that much from my classes on care of magical creatures."

HP:"Right. But, see, birds really do have two separate openings for waste, just like humans. It's just that in a bird those openings don't empty to outside the body; they empty into the cloaca, which then opens to the outside."

LG:"Yes, I think I'm remembering this. The, uh, you know, in girl birds also opens into the cloaca, doesn't it?"

HP:"Yes, exactly. Female full- and half-Veela and x-male half-Veela have a cloaca that leads to the Veela reproductive tract that appears once they reach sexual maturity. That's where they conceive in the Veela way. That's where my mate would need to insert his penis on our initial mating. I want babies."

LG:"You want babies. Do you mean… If I'm understanding right… You can get pregnant?"

HP:"I can and I want to."

LG:"That seems…very odd, Harry, I must admit. I cannot even conceive of the idea of getting pregnant myself."

HP:(laugh) "That was a very bad pun, sir."

LG:"Pun? What do… Oh…ah…that's not…I didn't mean to make a pun! I just meant that the idea is very foreign to me."

HP:(laugh) "I understand."

LG: "But…why? I still don't understand the question. Why is it necessary for your mate to, ah…"

HP:"Insert his penis into my cloaca during the initial mating?"

LG:"Um, yes. I'm glad you can say that so straightforwardly. Now, I do understand that that's how you would be able to conceive. Your cloaca is similar to a human woman's, ah… It leads to your womb, right?"

HP:(snicker) "Yes, that's right."

LG:"Are you wanting to get pregnant right away? Is that why? Or is it some type of Veela thing?"

HP:"Definitely a Veela thing, as you put it. You see, a Veela can conceive the Veela way only during the initial mating. After that, zilch. Oh, the girls can still conceive the human way, so it's not so much a big deal for them. But the x-males don't have that type of equipment and can only conceive the Veela way. Once. During the initial mating. If he doesn't conceive then, he doesn't conceive at all. And, as I've said several times, I want babies."

LG:"Ah. Hence your elimination of anyone who didn't know the proper, um, procedure."

HP:(laugh) "Exactly. I don't want to mate with someone who won't give me babies. Plus, like I said before, if someone answered incorrectly then that meant they hadn't done their research. I mean, a quick letter and a couple galleons to the Veela Council and they could have had a nice introductory book on Veela and half-Veela where, I might add, that specific information is quite prominent. If they can't be bothered, then neither can I."

LG:"That might sound a bit harsh to some but I can certainly understand why you would feel that way. With so many suitors, I imagine you have to have some pretty rigid guidelines."

HP:"Exactly."

LG:"I do have one question, though…"

HP:"Yes?"

LG:"You keep saying babies, but from your description it sounds like you'll only have the opportunity to get pregnant once. How do you plan on having more than one child?"

HP:"Well, you see, conception only happens during the initial mating, but more than one child can be conceived."

LG:"So you're hoping for twins?"

HP:"Well…not exactly. I'll have twins, there's no doubt. Unlike in humans, where twinning has various factors, twinning occurs in Veela if the carrier has enough magical power. It's a simple yes or no, flip of the switch type of determination."

LG:"But how will you have more than just the first two?"

HP:"All the children that can be conceived in the Veela fashion will be conceived during the initial mating. The maximum possible is twelve and whether or not they all get conceived depends on the magical strength of the submissive, and the magical strength of the bond between the mates. The fertilized eggs are then held in a kind of magical stasis, releasing at different times in the future."

LG:"I see. How odd."

HP:(snort) "True."

LG:"So you're going to have twins? Every time? Assuming you get pregnant more than once, of course."

HP:"Yes."

LG:"So those six children you were hoping for will only take three pregnancies. Efficient, I suppose."

HP:(laugh) "Yes, I guess it is."

LG:"Do you mind if I ask a few more questions about this?"

HP:"Please."

LG:"Do you always have it? Your cloaca, I mean. I know you said it didn't appear until maturity, but with it being a Veela change…"

HP:"Yes, it's always there. The cloaca may not appear until sexual maturity – I've only had mine for a few months – but once it's there, it's there. Human or bird form, it doesn't matter."

LG:"That…must be odd."

HP:(snort) "You've no idea. At least I had some warning. My mother, in her journals, talks about when hers appeared and how freaked out she was. At least I didn't have to do four months of research to figure out what was going on with me."

LG:"I'm glad to hear that. I'm sure your mother's spirit is glad to have helped you."

HP:(laugh) "I like to think so. But, I tell you, it was _really_ weird reading those pieces of her journal. It was like getting _The Talk_ from my late mother in a dissociated first-person perspective sort of way."

LG:(chuckle) "I can see that. So do you have a, uh, well…never mind."

HP:"No, what? Go ahead and ask. Whatever it is I'm sure you're not the only curious one. If I don't want to answer, I'll say so."

LG:"Ah, well, I was just wondering if you, since you have a womb, if, well…ifyouhaveacycle."

HP:(pause) "If I what? Oh! Oh, I understand. You mean, do I have a menstrual cycle like a human woman? No, no I don't. Neither do female Veelas. That is, not with their Veela anatomy."

LG:(sigh) "That's good to hear."

HP:"Bird gonads are mostly dormant when it's not time to mate. And Veelas only mate the once."

LG:"Only once? But…well…"

HP:"Only once the Veela way.

LG:"Ah. Right. So normal…no, no, never mind."

HP:(laugh) "Further recreational sex shall be at the discretion of myself and my mate."

LG:"Right, right. Of course, of course."

HP:(chuckle) "Anything else I can clarify for you?"

LG:(pause) "Well, I admit I'm curious about the fertilized eggs. Twelve possible conceptions, you said, that are held in stasis. How do you actually become pregnant, then? Twins or no."

HP:"Hmm, well, that's complicated. The easy answer is that my Veela magic decides when to release the eggs for pregnancy. Consciously, I don't have anything to do with it."

LG:"Your Veela magic just up and decides? You don't have any choice?"

HP:"Basically, yes. There are limiters, though. A pregnancy won't be initiated if I'm sick, for instance. Or if I'm not getting enough to eat, or I'm doing too much physical labor, or if I'm too stressed. Things like that. My Veela magic has to feel I am sufficiently safe and healthy before it will release an egg."

LG:"What if you don't want a child at that time?"

HP:"Too bad."

LG:(pause) "I see. Well, I think I now know all I ever want to know about Veela reproduction! So, how about we continue on?"

HP:(laugh) "Sure."

LG:"Let's see, let's see. You said you still had 1,029 suitors left. How do you plan on dealing with them? I mean, how will you continue the eliminations? Do you have more tests planned?"

HP:"I do, yes, though I'll not discuss them at this time. The next step is setting up meetings and getting a chance to feel their magic to see if it's compatible with mine. The meetings will start on the first of November and go through until the start of the holiday break."

LG:"That's a lot of people to meet in just seven weeks."

HP:"I know. It's about 150 people a week."

LG:"You're going to be busy."

HP:"Very…"

--end chapter—

More than you ever, ever wanted to know about bird reproduction… people.eku--edu/ritchisong/avianreproduction.html


	11. Starting Round Two

A/N: Thanks to Shinigami for the idea about Molly.

**Chapter 11 – Starting Round Two**

The reaction to his second interview was decidedly mixed. Some thought he had been unnecessarily and unfairly harsh. Others thought his test had been harsh, but it had been both fair and necessary. Still others thought the whole thing hysterical.

Neville had been among the latter and had nearly choked on his food when he had read the fourth question because he had started laughing so hard. Harry was surprised, but pleased, at the reaction. He would really have to ask Neville where and why he had learned about Veela enough to understand the question before it was explained.

Several of the Gryffindors, and not a few from other houses, had looked at Neville as if he was crazy, not understanding his mirth until they had read a bit farther in the article. And even then most people were embarrassed and flustered instead of amused. Hermione especially had turned a lovely red.

Deciding to stir the pot – because he really did need these harmless amusements – Harry had told everyone not to worry, he and his mate would engage in normal anal intercourse after the mating. The various hues of red had deepened a couple shades and poor Neville had nearly fallen off the bench he had laughed so hard.

That week he had hoped to be able to attend a few classes like he had the previous Thursday and Friday. He and his chaperone had worked hard on Saturday and Sunday to go through all the response parchments and send out appropriate postcards of acceptance or dismissal. And, of course, to get an accurate count. That still left Harry with the assigning of meeting times to the remaining suitors, which he had done Monday after the interview with Mr. Lovegood.

But…he hadn't counted on the mail.

There were more than a few letters, though not as many as he had feared, from dismissed suitors complaining about Harry's tests, all of which he had dutifully filed but basically ignored. Then there was the mail from the suitors he had accepted – Harry wouldn't be surprised if every single one of them had sent him a letter and present. He couldn't say for sure since he still had bundles he hadn't even touched. And, lastly, there was the mail from people who weren't courting him but still felt they had a right to comment, either positively or negatively, on how he conducted his life. These he had also basically ignored.

So, he was reading and answering mail…again.

The last week of October looked as if it would be basically the same, with Harry working diligently on his mail deficit. The weekly present from "D" was a much appreciated bright spot, however.

Draco's gift this last Monday of October was quite different than the weeks previously and Harry was pretty sure that the pool money was going to have to be set aside to carry over to the next week. The accompanying letter stated that "D" would like to continue to remain anonymous, if at all possible, but that he did understand that Harry would be evaluating the magical compatibility of suitors and hoped that Harry would accept the enclosed present in lieu of a face-to-face meeting.

Harry lifted the bracelet with its glowing charm from its packaging and cradled it in hand, feeling the magic coursing through the small charm.

Ron barked out a mean laugh and scoffed nastily, "A baby bracelet? What a stupid present."

Hermione looked puzzled and asked, "What's a baby bracelet?"

Ron sneered but went back to his breakfast without another word.

Harry absently thought that he was going to have to send a thank you note to Molly Weasley for hauling her son back in line – mostly. He could probably get half the House to sign it, too, the way Ron had been annoying everyone with his belligerent attitude. He expected Ron was going to explode, though, when he found out his brothers were some of Harry's suitors, mother's threats or not.

As Harry didn't seem inclined to answer, Lavender took it upon herself to explain. "A baby bracelet is a bracelet that mothers give to their babies when they're leaving for the day. It has a charm on it that carries a bit of the mother's magic so that the baby can feel the mother even though she's not there. The bracelets are to comfort the baby and to keep them from giving babysitters too much trouble. Most children grow out of it by the time they are four or five."

"So, it's offensive?" Hermione questioned, wanting to understand the implications of the gift. "It's like saying that Harry's a baby?"

Lavender nodded reluctantly and said, "It could be taken that way, yes."

"I like it," Harry said quietly.

Everybody was silent.

"You like it?" Ron asked in utter disbelief. "It's stupid. Just because you…"

Somebody had obviously kicked Ron under the table and it was probably a good thing for everybody that Ron once again went back to his breakfast in disgust instead of continuing to speak.

"I don't expect you to understand, Ron, but I like it," Harry said and put on the bracelet, struggling only a little bit with the clasp.

Not only did Harry like it, but he was impressed with it as well. The bracelet itself was rather nice; it was made from platinum and the largish chain links were somewhat delicate looking but still had a masculine feel overall. The charm was a simple sphere of green. Harry smiled slightly in amusement at the not-so-subtle Slytherin colors. Plus, Draco had been very clever. He had found a way to keep his identity a secret but still give Harry the opportunity to feel his magic without actually unmasking himself. Very clever indeed.

Harry wasn't surprised that the nature of his newest present flew across the school grapevine twice as fast as usual. What he would have been surprised about was just how much notice some people were taking of how often he fondled the small charm, though he was aware himself just how often he did. The feeling he got from the charm was nice; it felt like comfort and safety and support all rolled into one magical hug. Having never received such things on a regular basis, he reached for the charm's magic several times an hour. Harry also wouldn't have been surprised at just how smug Draco Malfoy was feeling.

And Draco was feeling incredibly smug. So much so that Pansy had kicked him several times that day during meals to keep his expression blank when he had seen Harry reach for the charm. During dinner and after the latest sharp kick, Draco had looked at Pansy with a haughtily raised eyebrow and an expression that clearly said "I told you so." Pansy scowled back and stabbed at her dinner with a pout; Draco knew it was the best apology he was going to get for her doubt about the gift. His great-grandmother, too, had expressed a great deal of concern. Draco had held firm, though, and now both ladies were going to have to eat their words.

Draco knew that one of the things Harry was looking for in a mate was safety and security. What better way could Draco show that he would always be there for Harry than by sharing a piece of his magic? Despite the loud, and logical, protests from Pansy and his great-grandmother, Draco had _known_ that such a present would touch Harry deeply. And judging from Harry's reaction, he was right.

Next week, he would go back to addressing Harry's wardrobe.

_The Quibbler, Special Flyer,_ Monday, November 4, 1996

_**Current Count of Suitors: 1,012**_

_Excerpt from __An Introduction to Veela__, Chapter 2 - Halfling Gender & Genetics: Female, Y-Male, X-Male_

Thursday had seen Harry and his chaperone at Madam Puddifoot's in preparation for the next two months of meet-and-greets. Several wards and monitoring spells were cast in various rooms and over the building itself. One was a special type of time-limited privacy spell set on the building so that anyone entering could not speak about the goings on until the evening of December 20th – the last day of scheduled meetings. The spell – a combination between a ward and a charm – would ensure that the nature of his third test did not get out to the public at large until _after _all the suitors had been evaluated. At least, the details wouldn't be leaked from the suitors or other patrons. Additional spells were placed to counter other means of visual and auditory spying and monitoring that would likely be employed by any number of rabid reporters. Madam Puddifoot was happy to oblige their tinkering, and well she should – Harry was paying her twenty galleons a day for her cooperation and assistance in his little scheme.

Friday had been the first day of the meetings and had gone pretty much as he had anticipated. He had stayed in the Great Hall long enough to collect his mail then had left to meet his chaperone and two guards at the main gate and make their way to Madam Puddifoot's. At eight thirty they had retired to the private room they had prepared the day before to munch on treats and watch – on the specially spelled wall – the reactions of the suitors as they arrived and asked for him. The first suitor, handsome and well-dressed, had arrived at five minutes to nine and promptly approached the proprietress to ask for Mr. Harry Potter.

Then the fun had begun.

Madam Puddifoot had been brilliant. She had promptly retrieved an appointment book and politely asked for the man's name. She had then looked in the book, tapped her quill a few times, looked up and said with bland professionalism, "I don't have your name on my list, young man. You're not scheduled to be here today and I'm afraid I can't let you in to see Mr. Potter."

The young man in question had shown only mild surprise and asked, "Are you certain, Madam? I have a letter here stating that I'm to be here at nine o'clock."

"I'm quite certain, sir. Your name is not on the schedule."

The man had taken out his letter and passed it to Madam Puddifoot and asked politely, "Would you mind taking this to Mr. Potter and double checking my appointment time? If there is a problem, perhaps he can provide another date and time."

Madam Puddifoot had made a good show of reading through the invitation and making appropriate thoughtful sounds before she had said, "Very well. Please wait a moment."

By the time the woman had made it to the private room, Harry had already filled out a pre-prepared postcard stating, "Congratulations. You have passed my test of respect through civility in the face of unforeseen obstacles. There will be a luncheon at noon for all those who pass this morning's trial. Please let me know if you are unable to attend."

The man had laughed when he read the postcard then bowed to the proprietress and left, stating he would be back later for the luncheon. Out of the twelve suitors that had arrived that morning at fifteen minute increments, only two were given the "you-were-rude-and-are-dismissed" postcard. The remaining suitors had all arrived timely for the luncheon and, as none of the warning spells in the luncheon room had been triggered, Harry, his guards, and his still-fully-cloaked chaperone had joined them.

During the luncheon Harry had made sure to make physical contact with each of his suitors to get a feel for their magic and had also subtly sniffed them. He had made careful mental notes and when the luncheon – which had gone pleasantly well – was over, he had returned to the private room with his chaperone. While watching and evaluating that afternoon's suitors for that evening's group dinner, he had sent out a further set of postcards to that morning's suitors indicating their current status of accepted/dismissed. All in all, he had eliminated two for being rude, three for magic incompatibility, and one for wearing cologne. Veela had excellent olfactory senses and positively _hated_ strong smelling perfumes and colognes – another very basic fact that would have been in any factual book on Veelas. Wearing it to meet a potential half-Veela mate had been a _big _mistake on the suitor's part.

Friday's dinner and Saturday's and Sunday's luncheons – because he wasn't giving up his _entire _weekends for these meetings – had gone similarly. Still, it was tiring. By the time Monday rolled around, Harry was very much looking forward to the distraction of his weekly present from Draco via the huge eagle and the playful gambling of his housemates.

A pair of gloves and a nice scarf would have been nice since it was starting to really get chilly, but the knee-high dragon hide boots were just as good. Especially since they had a permanent warming/cooling temperature-control charm on them and his current shoes – which he promptly trashed – were less than desirable in damp environs much less in full out rain and snow. Plus, they were _amazingly_ comfortable. Thank Merlin for sizing charms.

Maybe the gloves and scarf would come next week.

_The Quibbler, Special Addition to November's Edition,_ Monday, November 11, 1996

_**Current Count of Suitors: 955**_

_Excerpt from __An Introduction to Veela__, Chapter 3 - Marriage, Mating & Reproduction_

Harry was reluctant to head to breakfast this morning, despite mostly looking forward to Draco's present. The prior week had been nerve-wracking. He had originally planned to answer his mail at Madam Puddifoot's during the breaks between arriving suitors. Instead, he had found that evaluating suitors as they interacted with Madam Puddifoot was actually a lot more disrupting than he had thought it would be. As a result, he had fallen dangerously behind on his mail and spent both Saturday and Sunday afternoons catching up on writing replies instead of on the limited hobbies and social life he did have. He was not a happy wizard.

Not to mention, the constant feeling of other people's magic was making him jittery. In a way, this was good. As the weeks went by, he would become more and more particular about whose magic he did and did not like the feel of, eliminating more and more suitors for compatibility alone. One the other hand, it made him peevish.

Plus, it had been really, really cold this past week. He was going to be really, really annoyed if Draco didn't send him gloves and scarf this week.

As the desired gloves (with warming charms similar to his boots) and scarf (enchanted to stick to itself so it didn't move about once put in place) _did _arrive, Draco never found out just how close he had come to being eliminated due to plain crabbiness.

_The Quibbler, Special Flyer,_ Monday, November 18, 1996

_**Current Count of Suitors: 888**_

_Excerpt from __An Introduction to Veela__, Chapter 4 - Family Structure & Material Inheritance_

The second full week of meetings had been very similar to the first. However, he was much less stressed. He had decided to never again give up his free time to answer mail and if a suitor got pissy over how long it took Harry to respond, well, it just gave him an excellent reason to eliminate said suitor, now didn't it?

He had also come to a decision about Draco's request to be excused from the meetings. Harry perfectly understood that the request had been made because Draco was still too uncomfortable to reveal himself. Still, the test was designed to see how his suitors responded to frustration, to being blocked in their desires, if they would vent their temper or if they would calmly assess and try to solve the problem, and he wanted to see how Draco would respond in that situation.

Eventually, Harry had come to the conclusion that Draco had already shown him what he was looking for. Hadn't Draco shown persistence and problem solving abilities in simply pursuing this courtship at all, especially given Harry's previous opinion of him? Hadn't all the letters been respectful? And, given who he was, wouldn't Draco be endangered if he happened to show up for a meeting, whether or not he was polite to Madam Puddifoot? It wasn't as if Draco could offer up a non-parentally-approved excuse to be out of Hogwarts at any time other than for a Hogsmeade weekend and Harry had no intention of missing the next one. In addition, being half-Veela himself, Harry knew that Draco wouldn't have worn cologne and also knew, due to the baby bracelet, that Draco's magic was compatible.

So it was that when Nichol flew down with this week's package that Harry had another postcard ready for her to return to…wherever she came from that, in addition to his weekly thank you, stated that Harry would make an exception and excuse "D" from the meetings. It had been three weeks since Draco's request and Harry was sure the other boy was getting nervous, although he hadn't once shown it.

Harry launched Nichol and sat back down with his package. As his temper was much more amenable this week than last his housemates happily indulged themselves in yet another betting pool. He flashed a quick smile and unwrapped the box. He retrieved the letter and couldn't help but laugh as he read Draco's embarrassed admission that he was rather a bit of an accessory freak and hoped that Harry enjoyed the enclosed belts and interchangeable buckles as much as he did. Harry could feel the curiosity of his housemates rising with each passing moment, but he continued to read the letter. They could wait a few minutes. Finally, he finished the letter and refolded it with a small smile.

"Well?" asked Ginny only a little impatiently, her curiosity burning bright in her eyes.

"Belts," he said then grinned when the fifth-year girls all whooped and cheered when the news reached them.

"They went in together for a whole sickle," Dean said in explanation as he passed the pouch of coins down the table to Ginny and the other celebrating girls.

Harry snorted in amusement. "Getting into high stakes there!"

"Is there something special about the belts?" Hermione asked with a small frown.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked as he turned his attention from Dean.

"Well," Hermione said slowly then elaborated, "It's just that the gifts from this suitor are usually noteworthy in some way. Belts seem rather, um, boring, I guess."

Harry nodded then said with a smirk, "I see. Well, there are three of them in different widths, they're dragon-hide, they have chameleon charms on them so I can make them match my pants if I want, and there are four different interchangeable belt buckles. Noteworthy enough?"

Hermione smirked back, although it didn't look as good on her as it did on Harry, and nodded without comment.

"Oooh, buckles. Can we see?" Lavender asked eagerly.

Harry paused and all the nearby students, except an apparently oblivious Lavender, tensed in nervous anticipation of an eruption of temper. There were varying looks of relief and surprise when Harry, instead of issuing a scathing reply, said, "Sure, Lav."

A quick peak into the box showed the three currently-black belts coiled on the left and four tissue-wrapped packages on the right. Harry took all four bundles out of the box and set them on the table. He had more than just a Gryffindor audience as he gently unwrapped the first buckle.

"This is the Ravenclaw one," Harry said as he passed it across the table to Lavender. "It's a stylized raven in bronze holding a lapis lazuli stone in its claws."

"Oooh, pretty," Lavender cooed as she traced the gemstone. Her statement was met with agreeing murmurs from around her as others strove to get a look at the buckle. Not many were successful as the buckle was only about two inches by three inches. Harry kept a keen eye on the piece as Lavender showed it around. A few minutes later she handed it back.

Harry carefully re-wrapped the buckle and slipped it back into the box on his lap. Then he carefully unwrapped a second buckle and passed it over. "Slytherin. A silver ouroboros around an oval of malachite."

"Are the other two Gryffindor and Hufflepuff?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded as he watched Lavender examine and show off the second buckle. "To honor the school I attend," he said. And while that was what Draco had written, Harry wondered if this might be a subtle test in reverse. Would Harry Potter, the Gryffindor Golden Boy, have the guts to wear a Slytherin symbol? Or was he simply blowing smoke when he had stated in the second interview that he didn't mind what Hogwarts house his future mate was from, if indeed they had attended the school at all? He resolved to wear all four buckles, proudly and visibly, over the next month.

--HPDM--

Draco sat cross-legged on his bed and stared at the envelope sitting in front of him, his thoughts going around in circles. He hoped the envelope – ostensibly from his great-grandmother – finally held the reply to Draco's plea to forgo a face-to-face meeting. What if Harry had refused? Could Draco try to change his mind? How would he do that? Somehow he would have to because there was no way he could get to the meeting unless it just happened to coincide with a Hogsmeade weekend – which wasn't likely. So he hoped that Harry had accepted. But what if he didn't? What if Harry refused?

"You'll never know if you don't even open it," Pansy said from behind him.

"Merlin!" Draco exclaimed as he whipped around to face his friend. He clutched his chest as his heart raced from the shock of her appearance. "You didn't have to sneak up on me!"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "I didn't sneak up on you. You just weren't paying attention," she said impatiently. "So, are you going to open the letter and see if you've gotten your answer or are you going to angst over it all night like some pitiful Hufflepuff?"

Draco scowled but picked up the envelope and defiantly ripped it open. He read the enclosed postcard and, while relieved, wasn't quite sure what to make of it. He passed it to Pansy.

"I accept the baby bracelet in lieu of a face-to-face meeting. Thank you for the gloves and scarf, blah, blah, blah," Pansy read then looked up disbelievingly. "That's it? No explanation?"

"I guess he figured that the acceptance was enough of an explanation," Draco said with a shrug. He smirked at Pansy's now outraged face and added, "I've passed round two."

Pansy scowled. "And round three?" she asked.

Draco frowned. "That's what I'm concerned about. There's no mention of the next test and there's no word from those who've already attended the meetings."

"They've been spelled silent," Pansy reminded her friend.

"I know," Draco said. He shook his head and verbalized his thoughts in the hopes that Pansy could help him figure out what to do next. "I don't think he would leave me at any more of a disadvantage than any other suitor, so that means they don't know what the next test is either. You have any ideas?"

Pansy climbed onto Draco's bed and made herself comfortable leaning against several pillows. She narrowed her eyes in thought and stared for several minutes at the dark green canopy. "The first round was a double test," she said slowly. "He looked for punctuality and knowledge, both of which he classified under the category of respect. This second round is probably a double test as well somehow. He's testing for magic compatibility, obviously, and you passed that test with the baby charm."

"And the second part?" Draco asked curiously.

"I'd wager it's something having to do with respect," Pansy said slowly, picking at the quilt beneath her. "Something that you've also passed somehow."

"I would have to have passed it through my letters," Draco said.

Pansy nodded distractedly. "Yes, but what exactly?"

"My stories?" Draco suggested. "I've been telling him about myself through my letters like I promised."

"That might be it, actually," Pansy said thoughtfully. "Not your stories so much as the fact that you've kept your promise. That shows respect."

Draco narrowed his eyes then shook his head. "While I'm sure it's to my benefit that I've kept my promise, I don't think that's it. That's something _I'm _doing, though, not everyone."

"I'm sure you're not the only one telling stories, dear," Pansy said a tad scornfully.

"Probably not," Draco admitted easily. "Nevertheless, I don't think that is the second test I passed. If there is a second test."

"I'm sure there is," Pansy said then suggested, "Maybe something to do with Veela?"

Draco shook his head again. "No. With the failure of so many in round one because they didn't read about Veelas, I'm sure everyone brushed up on their Veela knowledge just to make sure they didn't get caught out in the future. I did and I'm half-Veela myself!"

Pansy uttered an agreeable sound and went back to thinking. A couple minutes later she sighed and said, "I don't know. I need more information. It's rather a moot point, however, as you've somehow passed."

"I'd still like to know _what_ it was that I passed," Draco said wryly.

"I'm sure," Pansy said with a small grin. "Let's get back to test number three."

Now it was Draco's turn to sigh. "I've no idea. Maybe he'll send a note about it once the test gets closer."

"Or maybe it's something you need to think of yourself," Pansy said. "And if you don't…"

Draco groaned in frustration. "That's what I'm afraid of."


	12. Neville

**Updated 5/11/08** - Thanks to mumimeanjudy for catching my inability to count - there were _six _kids at DoM, not five.

A/N: Thanks go to mumimeanjudy & Immortal Sailor Cosmos for inspiration on pieces of this chapter.

I've updated the links to Cyane's fics in my profile and added another story by Shivani (WIP).

Some may not like my brief explanation/dismissal of the Department of Mysteries incident. All I can say is that I always found the whole "untrained kids can beat trained terrorists any day it just takes a bit of luck and clever thinking" idea to be utterly ludicrous. Those kids should have _never_ succeeded. And, really, if it'd been me, I would simply have waited for Harry to pull down the prophecy, cued my people, then AK'd the kids and been done with it. I wouldn't have _asked_ for the prophecy and started a pointless chase. Honestly…

**Chapter 12 – Neville**

It was a Wednesday morning when the school was finally witness to an enraged Veela's fireballs.

Surprisingly, it had been neither Ron's nasty comments nor Hermione's questions that had finally set him off enough to lose control of his form and his fire. He had honestly thought it would be. In fact, it hadn't even been a Gryffindor, and neither was it a Slytherin, which had been his next guess. Shockingly, it had been a Hufflepuff. Even more shockingly, it had been a snotty little _first year _Hufflepuff.

He had just finished breakfast and stood up from the table to prepare to leave for Hogsmeade for his morning evaluations. He had settled his bag at his hip and placed his cloak – the lovely cloak that Draco had gifted him – around his shoulders. That was when the little snot had shot off his mouth.

He couldn't remember exactly what the brat had said, but it had been some stupid, completely nonsensical comment along the lines of only wearing the cloak so he could attract the ladies and screw as many as possible before getting married to some guy.

The first-year end of the Hufflepuff table had needed to be replaced.

The Hufflepuffs had avoided him since.

It was just as well since he was still tempted to fry the little menace.

He'd told the headmaster that, too, when the man had tried to punish him for the incident. What the little monster had said could easily be taken as a mortal insult – Veela were _not_ promiscuous and, in fact, mated for life just like hawks – and the kid should be glad for his life, that Harry still had had enough self-control to fry the _table _and not the_ brat._

He wore the cloak because it was _warm _and because he _liked _it. He absolutely _adored_ the cloak, in fact, and considered it one of his most prized possessions.

He had gotten a lot of hassle about the cloak – it was very obviously quite expensive – and that was _before_ that horrid paper had reported the fact that it had likely cost more than a year's tuition at Hogwarts. Nonetheless, he persisted in wearing it every day and ignored the comments about gold-diggers. Perhaps he should have considered the possibility that it would be comments about the cloak that would finally anger him beyond reason, but he hadn't. Then again, it hadn't been a comment about the cloak that had angered him but the suggestion that he slept around indiscriminately. He would never!

He had mostly calmed by the time he had reached Madam Puddifoot's and had been able to attend the lunch and dinner meetings in a decent frame of mind. He'd even managed to keep said frame of mind all the way back to Hogwarts' main doors. It was the headmaster's request to speak to him about that morning's incident that had re-annoyed him. He had quite rudely told off the headmaster and stomped his way to Gryffindor tower. In a desperate bid to keep his snit from erupting into yet another display of Veela fire prowess, he had immediately retreated to his bed and sealed the curtains so he wasn't disturbed.

It was now Sunday afternoon and he finally felt that he could be his normal, mildly stressed, self. And so it was that when he found Neville hunting through his trunk in the dorm upon returning from the lunch meeting Harry issued a greeting instead of once again hiding in his bed.

"Hey, Neville," Harry greeted calmly as he removed his cloak. "How are you?"

Neville looked up and smiled. "Hey, Harry. I'm good. I can't find my book on magical tiger-lilies, though. I swear I've looked through this mess three times." He waved his hand over the clearly disheveled trunk contents.

"Did you look under the bed?" Harry asked. He well knew that Neville often read at night and sometimes the books got pushed to the floor once he fell asleep.

Neville got a look of consternation upon his face and promptly ducked down to look in the suggested location. Fifteen seconds later he stood up with the sought after item clutched in his left hand. "You know, I should just always look there first," he said with a combination of amusement and self-exasperation.

Harry chuckled slight. "Probably."

"So how are you?" Neville asked as he put his book by his pillow.

"Tired," Harry said with a shrug and put his cloak away in his trunk.

"It must be tough," Neville said sympathetically.

Harry nodded. "Why don't you ever ask me about how the courtships are going?" Harry asked curiously.

Neville shrugged and said, "I figured if you wanted to talk about it that you would say something."

"Oh," Harry said, looking a bit nonplussed. Imagine that, someone not nagging him to spill his every secret.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Neville asked obligingly.

Harry looked at Neville soberly and said, "Sometimes I do, but I'm afraid that anybody I talk to besides my chaperone won't understand my concerns."

"Well," Neville said slowly, "I can try if you like. I promise not to tell anyone anything. Is there something really bothering you?"

Harry nodded hesitantly. Could he trust Neville? He could really use another opinion… "There are a few things. I talked to my chaperone about them but I'd like to get a wizard's perspective, you know?"

Neville raised his eyebrows at the tacit admission that his chaperone wasn't a wizard. He didn't comment, though, and just presumed that the chaperone was a Veela. "Well, what have you got? I'm willing to give my opinion, for what it's worth."

"I've had some names…" he admitted slowly.

"Like who?" Neville asked curiously as he took a seat on his bed.

"Well, like the four oldest Weasley boys, not counting Percy," Harry said as he shifted his feet, uncomfortable with the thought of any of the Weasleys courting him.

"Really? I wouldn't have thought that they were interested in you in that way," Neville said in surprise as he waved Harry over to his bed.

Harry lifted his bag from over his shoulders as he stepped over to Neville's bed. Neville scooted down so that he was by the headboard and Harry settled himself at the foot so that they were facing each other. "I don't think they are," he agreed, "but I got letters from them anyway."

"You think they were coerced into entering the courtships?" Neville asked with a frown.

"I think so," Harry said with a nod. "Here, look at these." He opened his bag to the center filing compartment and pulled out several folders, passing each one to Neville as he retrieved it.

Neville stole a cursory glance at each folder as he accepted it then placed it on the bed in front of him so that he could see all the names. When Harry was finished passing files Neville said, "The red ones mean you've eliminated them, right?"

Harry nodded. "Right. And the black "O" by the name marks them as all part of the same group," he said as he gestured at the neatly splayed folders.

Neville read the names on all the folders. The only names he recognized were the Weasley brothers and Alastor Moody. He shook his head and admitted, "I don't understand how these people are all in the same group."

"These are all people from Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix," Harry said.

Neville's eyes widened and he said, "Oh. I see. You're sure?"

"Absolutely," Harry said firmly. "The only one missing that I know about is Remus Lupin and I happen to know that after Sirius died he left the country to go traveling. They probably couldn't reach him. I've not heard from him, at any rate, and if anything might inspire him to write me it would be this mess."

Neville nodded distractedly as he took another quick look at the folders. "You eliminated most of them. It's just Bill and Charlie left now," he said. "You think Dumbledore had them enter?"

"Yes," Harry said. "I'm almost positive."

"Isn't this interference?" Neville asked cautiously. "Could you get all these people and Dumbledore in trouble for this? This would be considered coercion, wouldn't it?"

"I…maybe," Harry said uncomfortably. "It's a bit grey, actually. I'm sure Dumbledore didn't actually _force_ anybody to participate. He probably just…strongly suggested. And you know how much people want to please him."

"I suppose," Neville said doubtfully. "It still wouldn't look good, though."

Harry shrugged. "There are other reasons why I don't want to make a fuss about it," he said slowly. "Things might…come out in a legal confrontation that I don't want revealed quite yet."

"Oh," Neville said, unable to come up with any better response. He wondered if "things" included facts about Harry's Veela heritage since he seemed to want to keep that information hidden for now.

"Anyway, they're mostly eliminated, like you said. It's just Bill and Charlie now," Harry said with a grimace. "And I'm not sure what to do."

"Why don't you just eliminate them," Neville suggested practically.

Harry sighed. "That may seem like a sensible and straightforward solution but I'm really worried about doing that," he said. "I'm afraid that if I just summarily dismiss them, or anybody, that Dumbledore, or the Ministry, will complain to the Veela council that I'm taking advantage of the situation and not really evaluating suitors fairly. They wouldn't win the case – the council takes a dim view on even partly coerced suitors – but it would be disruptive and with so many suitors I don't have the time for anything to go wrong and cause delays in my testing plans."

Neville gave an understanding huff then asked curiously, "What does your chaperone say?"

"That even if they were pushed into it by Dumbledore I should still evaluate them independently," Harry replied with a slight grimace. He could see the man's point, but really!

"Your chaperone is a Veela, isn't he?" Neville asked with a small chuckle.

Harry snorted and said, "Yes. He's full-Veela, too, which means that it's been ingrained in him since before he was even born that all potential suitors should be evaluated. You just never know where the perfect mate might be hiding, after all."

"Right," Neville said, shaking his head. "I understand now why you wanted a wizard's opinion. That is definitely a Veela way of looking at things."

"So, what is your opinion?" Harry asked in interest.

"My opinion is that Bill and Charlie are pretty good guys from what I've seen and heard of them," Neville said with a shrug. "Bill works with Fleur and became good friends with her so that's probably why he knew the right answer to your trick question. He probably knows a lot about Veela. Charlie obviously did his own research."

"Or Bill told him what he knew," Harry disagreed with a shake of his head.

"Maybe," Neville said doubtfully, "but I don't think so. If he had told Charlie then why wouldn't he have told Fred and George?"

"I don't know," Harry said in surprise and looked at Charlie's folder in a new light. "Maybe you're right. I just presumed that Bill had told them what to do and the twins answered incorrectly on purpose."

"I wouldn't be surprised if they did," Neville said then added, "I'm really surprised they agreed to join the courtships at all, Dumbledore or no."

Harry snickered. "They sent their _official_ letters of intent separately, but they sent another one just the next day. Go ahead and open Fred's folder and read it. It's hysterically funny. And it _completely_ told me they weren't interested. They celebrated when they got eliminated."

"What did they say?" Neville asked curiously as he fished Fred's folder out of the rest.

"Oh, Harry, you're the sky we walk on and the ground we breath!" Harry said fatuously. "Our robes are always open to you whenever you want to come over! We love you and must have you…together!"

"Wait. What? Together?" Neville asked, taken aback.

"Twins are twice the fun!" Harry said enthusiastically.

"Oh, Merlin," Neville said as he shook his head. He opened the folder and read the first letter. Boring. Blah, blah, blah. The next letter had him grinning and snickering. "This is _much_ more like the twins."

"Read the next one, too," Harry said. "It's just as funny."

Neville laughed through the second letter. "I love this one and how it skips back and forth between them. You must reconsider! Please don't. We cried all night! We drank a bottle of Ogden's. It's perfect."

"They sent me a bottle of my own, too," Harry said with a grin. "I haven't opened it though. Alcohol does some weird things to Veela. You want it?"

"No," Neville said with a grimace. "I hate whiskey."

"Ah, too bad," Harry said in disappointment.

"Keep it and send it back to them in twenty years," Neville suggested.

Harry brightened. "That's a great idea," he said. He became serious again and asked, "So what do I do about Bill and Charlie? They'll both probably pass my next tests as well, but I honestly think of them as big brothers."

"Do you really?" Neville asked intently as he leaned forward. "How much interaction have you really had with them?"

Harry looked up at Neville then blinked in surprised realization and said, "Well, not that much, actually."

"Then why would you think of them as big brothers? Simply because they're _Ron's_ big brothers?" Neville asked.

Harry nodded thoughtfully and said, "You know, I think you're right. That probably is why I think of them that way even though I really don't know them at all."

"I think that you should go ahead and evaluate them like anybody else," Neville said honestly. "They might be part of Dumbledore's Order but both of them have their own strong personality. They both went their own way in regards to their careers despite the protests of their mother. I don't think either one of them would be a bad choice. Well, except for that fact that they both have rather high risk jobs and I know you want a big family with your mate alive and well."

Harry smiled gratefully and said, "You're right. Thanks for the insights."

"Sure," Neville said with a return smile. "Any time."

"Are you up for another set of people?" Harry asked hopefully. Maybe Neville would have just as good advice on the second problem group.

Neville nodded, so Harry re-filed the folders on the bed and started pulling out the "X" marked folders from his bag and handing them to his friend. When he was finished pulling, and Neville was finished organizing, there were more folders than in the previous set and far fewer had been turned red.

Neville looked down at the files and started reading through the names. He looked up in shock when he was only one-quarter of the way through. "These are all Death Eaters!"

"Not officially," Harry said dryly.

"Right, of course," Neville said with a snort, "not officially."

"I'll make sure and check everyone for polyjuice, don't worry," Harry said with a scowl. The reference to how all the "Death Eaters" at the Department of Mysteries were actually low-level hired thugs, some polyjuiced as various "honest citizens", was not lost on Neville. Probably only Bellatrix had been herself. It had been bitterly disappointing when they'd found out, but it did explain why six school kids could win against such long odds.

"Is this all of them?" Neville asked, nodding to the assortment of folders on his bed.

"I don't know," Harry admitted grimly. "These are all the ones I've heard about, or read were freed after the last war for claiming imperious, but there are probably others."

Neville read through all the names before looking up and saying, "You know, I'm pretty sure some of these people are married." He tapped the folder of Lucius Malfoy pointedly.

"I know," Harry said with a small shrug, "but I don't want to eliminate them just for that."

"Why not?" Neville asked in shock.

Harry looked off to the side and was quiet a moment before turning back to Neville and saying, "What if they were forced into those marriages? Bonding with me would free them if they truly are interested in me and are a good mate."

Neville looked at his friend in dismay as he realized a bitter truth for the first time. "You really feel trapped in this life, don't you, Harry?"

Harry looked up in surprise and not a small bit of alarm but did not answer.

"I mean, why else would you even think that the married men might be _trapped_ instead of simply trying to get you for _status_?" Neville asked.

Harry shrugged and looked away; he was obviously uncomfortable with the topic.

Neville dropped the subject himself – there was no sense in discussing such an obviously sensitive topic when there wasn't much to be done besides what _was _being done – and said in a businesslike tone, "I think that everybody with the Dark Mark will probably get eliminated during the meetings. I bet you'll feel the mark when you feel their magic and you won't like it."

Harry shook his head and said, "Maybe, but I'm not so sure that the Dark Mark affects a person's core magic. If not, I won't be able to feel it. I've not felt any so far, though it's true that I've not met any men that I know are Death Eaters."

Neville sighed. "Well, if you're not going to summarily dismiss anyone, then you'll have to evaluate them. You didn't invite them all to the same meeting, did you?"

"No!" Harry exclaimed in horror. "They're spread out. There's only one on any given day and only two or three per week. Starting tomorrow."

"Well, good," Neville said. He was quiet for several moments before saying thoughtfully, "I don't think you should worry about them."

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Why not? I _don't_ want to mate with a Death Eater! There has to be some way I can eliminate them!"

"Think about it," Neville said with a smile. "Are people who willingly follow You-Know-Who going to be the kind of people that have the personality traits you're looking for? They're all followers and you've said _how_ many times that you want your mate to be able to think for themselves?"

Harry blinked. "Huh. Well, that's true. I hadn't thought of that. And they'll all fail this next test if they stay true to their obnoxious selves. Still…"

"You'll just have to wait and see," Neville said with a shrug. "It's not like you can do much else."

"True," Harry said with a somewhat dejected sigh and started re-filing the Death Eater folders. A couple minutes later he was finished and pulled out one last folder that he passed to Neville.

"Severus Snape!" Neville exclaimed in shock once he'd read the name.

"Yes," Harry grimaced. "Isn't that just lovely?"

Neville had a look of horrified disgust on his face as he held the folder out away from him as if it would bite.

Harry laughed a moment and said, "When I got his letter of intent I was so shocked that I practically screamed "No bloody way!" and McGonagall took ten points off Gryffindor for my language."

Neville, who looked a bit green, asked, "What did you do?"

"Nothing much," Harry said with another small laugh. "I just sneered at her and went back to my letters and wrote him a postcard."

"You mean you actually invited him?" Neville questioned in astonishment.

"I told you why," Harry said defensively. "I couldn't afford not to."

"Well, yes, but this is _Snape_ were talking about!" Neville protested vehemently.

"I know," Harry said with a grimace, starting to look a bit green himself. "And what's worse is that he passed."

"No," Neville breathed, horrified.

"I think he'll fail this next test, though," Harry said brightly. "I can't see how he could possibly pass."

"I hope so," Neville said and handed the folder back with a shudder. He watched Harry re-file the offending folder then asked plaintively, "Do you have any _good _ones?"

Harry let out a surprised laugh and grinned at his friend. "I have almost four dozen favorites. Does that count?"

Neville nodded eagerly so Harry dutifully pulled a file from his bag. "This is Ian Cadwgan. His first gift was a subscription to _Vagabond_, which is a wizarding travel magazine. In his letters he tells me about some of the places he's been…"

As the Gryffindors had learned to leave Harry alone this week due to his temper, the two boys were able to talk about Harry's favorite suitors all the way until dinner.

--HPDM--

Draco looked up from his reading at his desk as his bedroom door was opened. "Evening, Pansy," he greeted.

"Evening," Pansy replied with a grin.

"What are you grinning about?" Draco asked warily as he watched his friend walk over to his bed and bounce on the mattress a couple times before settling into a cross-legged position right in the middle.

"I've news!" Pansy said in excitement.

Draco grinned back. He couldn't wait to hear what she had learned. "What did you find out?"

"Well, Potter's finally calmed down," Pansy reported proudly. "He went up to the dorms today after he returned just like he has been, _but_… Neville Longbottom was already up there. Neither one came back down to the common room, though, and they were later seen together going to the kitchens for dinner."

"Thank Merlin," Draco said with a relieved sigh. It had been a tense few days at the school since that blasted Hufflepuff had insulted Harry. From what he'd seen and heard, the boy was lucky to be alive. Harry certainly had a strong will to keep himself from attacking the boy directly – Draco wouldn't have been so self-restrained.

"I'd stay away for another couple days anyway," Pansy said with wave of her hand. "Let Brown-Cadbury and Neville calm him down some more."

Draco nodded. "Good idea. Wait. Neville? Since when do you call Longbottom by his given name?"

"Since he's shown his bollocks are so big it's a wonder he can walk at all," Pansy said defiantly.

"Pansy has a crush, Pansy has a crush," Draco sing-songed teasingly.

Pansy threw a pillow at Draco that he easily knocked aside. "So what if I do?" Pansy said angrily.

Draco's eyes widened at his friend's tone.

"He obviously has a backbone and just as obviously chooses to use it only for those things that he feels are worthwhile instead of every little situation like most Gryffindors," Pansy said earnestly. "He knew just how to handle Potter, too, so that means he must've done his research – unlike the rest of this school. And he's loyal."

Draco stared at Pansy and didn't say anything. She stared back at him defiantly. Eventually, he said reluctantly, "We'll just keep an eye on him, then. How about that?"

"He's brilliant at herbology," Pansy said.

"I know," Draco said, looking away.

"And he's been getting a lot better at defense," Pansy said.

"I know," Draco acknowledged with a grimace.

"And his grandmother probably pounded into him all the necessary social etiquette and he'll be Head of his family when he comes of age," Pansy continued.

"I know," Draco said with a pained sigh.

"Even you've said that he seems to be finally coming into his own and becoming a much more promising person," Pansy said challengingly.

Draco groaned and covered his face with his hands. He should have realized that saying such a thing would come back to bite him on the arse.

"And his comment was really funny," Pansy offered placatingly.

Draco dropped his hands and looked over at Pansy. "Which one? The "Harry, you missed." or the "A couple more ought to finish off the table." Personally, I like the first one."

Pansy giggled slightly and said, "Well, I meant the second one but the first one was pretty good, too."

Draco sighed in resignation and shook his head. "I suppose I will never again question his placement in Gryffindor. It took some guts to approach an angry transformed submissive, who'd just tossed a fireball, and try to calm them."

"I think it says a lot for Neville that he was successful," Pansy said proudly.

Draco groaned but didn't reply. He couldn't believe Pansy was interested in Longbottom. The gods were laughing at him.

"Potter has finished Europe," Pansy said casually.

"He has?" Draco said as he immediately perked up. "Have you heard anything?"

"Nothing more than usual," Pansy said apologetically. "It's interesting, fascinating, amazing, etcetera, but so far still no extra-special interest in any particular culture. He and Granger were due to start the Mediterranean the day that brat shot off his mouth."

"Damn," Draco said in disappointment.

"If you're looking to send him supplemental reading, why don't you just send a picture book of the area he's reading about?" Pansy asked curiously.

Draco shook his head but didn't comment.

Pansy sighed. "You and your obsession with perfect gifts," she said in annoyance.

Draco snorted but still said nothing. It wasn't actually an obsession with perfect gifts as Pansy thought, but a desire to know where he needed to make arrangements for Harry's summer. The summer's arrangements were one of the most important aspects of his courtship of Harry. He wanted to display his ability to get Harry out and away from Britain and protect him from meddling headmasters. But in order to make such plans he needed to know what cultures Harry was interested in.

"What are you going to do about Yule?" Pansy asked, still annoyed that Draco continued to refuse to tell her exactly why he wanted to know which culture Harry liked best. "Are you going to reveal yourself when you invite him to visit your family or are you going to have everybody wear a glamour?"

"I'm not going to invite him," Draco said. "I'm…"

"What!" Pansy screeched. "That's a required part of a courtship! You can't not invite him just because you're afraid of getting rejected! You'll get rejected if you don't!"

Draco blinked in surprise for several moments after his friend had vociferously expressed her displeasure. Maybe that was it?

"Draco!" Pansy called loudly.

"I bet that's it," Draco said, voicing his epiphany.

It was Pansy's turn to blink in surprise. "What are you talking about?"

"I bet that's the next test," Draco explained, a smile starting to creep onto his face. "You're right; it _is _required to make an invitation to visit family, but how many people do you think actually will?"

"All of them!" Pansy exclaimed immediately.

Draco shook his head vehemently, now smiling fully. "No, no, no. You're not _thinking_. The second interview said Harry was conducting the meetings until the 20th of December and then he would start meeting people independently on the 6th of January. So what is he doing in between?"

"Taking a vacation?" Pansy suggested sarcastically.

Draco waved off her comment and continued his explanation. "Think of all the counter articles that have come out. Specifically, think of the articles that contain quotes from Dumbledore. What has the man said about Harry's vacation? I know you remember."

Pansy frowned then replied, "Not to bother him over the holiday but do you really think…"

"Absolutely," Draco said strongly. "People here in Britain have been conditioned to obey him. The European countries follow his lead as well, if to a lesser extent. Most countries at least hold him in regard for his past accomplishments. Plus, the obvious breach between Harry and Dumbledore hasn't made it into the papers so everyone outside of Hogwarts will probably still think that Harry defers to Dumbledore. How many of the suitors do you think will honor his request to leave Harry alone?"

Pansy narrowed her eyes and thought about the question. Slowly, she admitted, "A lot of them. Also, it's likely that some people will not bother to issue an invitation at all either because they just don't think about it or because they realize that the possibility of a visit is practically nonexistent with so many suitors."

"Exactly," Draco said smugly. "Whether you think Harry will accept or not, it's the proper thing to do to invite him to meet your family. To not invite him shows _disrespect."_

"And since he seems to be very concerned about respect…" Pansy trailed off suggestively.

"And since he wants someone to think for themselves…" Draco responded in kind.

"Not inviting him would get you dismissed," Pansy finished with an eager nod. "Yes, it makes sense. It's a trick, just like the first test. Something that _should _be obvious, that _is _obvious to those who've done their research, but will fail the lazy ones without much effort on his part."

"It's very clever," Draco said admiringly.

"Which just means that you _have _to invite him!" Pansy said firmly.

"No, no. This is what I'm going to do. You remember the baby bracelet you didn't like…"


	13. An Invitation

**Chapter 13 – An Invitation**

_The Quibbler, Special Flyer,_ Monday, November 25, 1996

_**Current Count of Suitors: 813**_

_Excerpt from __An Introduction to Veela__, Chapter 5 - Community Organization – Villages & The City_

Harry laughed as Lavender squealed in excitement at her winning of the weekly bet.

"How did you think of such a thing?" Harry inquired curiously once the girl had stowed away her newly won bag of knuts.

"What else would he get you after belts than buttons?" Lavender questioned innocently.

Harry shook his head in amazement. "I didn't even know such things _existed_. I've heard of cufflinks but I've never heard of temporary buttons and certainly not shirts with only buttonholes."

"It allows for greater accessorizing," Parvati said earnestly.

"Right," Harry said with raised eyebrows and again shook his head. He appreciated the four cufflink and button sets that he had received – and the accompanying buttonhole-only shirts of black and white that accompanied them – but it still seemed like an odd concept to him.

"My father has several sets of buttons," Hermione volunteered. "He uses them when he takes mum out to a fancy dinner once a month. I think he must have a dozen sets or so."

"Really?" Harry said then chuckled. His chuckle grew into a full-out laugh as he remembered the letter and thought that Hermione's father had nothing on Draco. Draco had admitted that buttons were his favorite accessory and that he currently owned over 200 sets, though he no longer wore many of the ones he had purchased as a child. He wondered what Draco would say to find out he had something in common with a muggle.

"What's so funny?" Hermione asked curiously.

Harry shook his head. "Just something," he said in amusement.

Hermione nodded and went back to her breakfast without comment.

Harry looked at her curiously. Her nagging and questioning had drastically reduced in the last several weeks and he was curious as to why. He didn't think it was due solely to the nagging of Lavender and Neville. "Hey, Hermione?"

"Yes?" Hermione said as she looked up from pouring another glass of pumpkin juice.

"Why aren't you nagging me anymore?" Harry asked.

Hermione raised an eyebrow and asked dryly, "You want me to nag you, Harry?"

Harry shook his head vigorously and said, "No, but I'm trying to figure out why you've stopped nagging me or at least not as much as you used to."

"Well," Hermione said, clucking her tongue, "You want the nice explanation or the ugly truth?"

Harry's lips twitched, as did Hermione's, and Harry said, "Why don't you tell me the nice version first."

Hermione smiled and said, "I had a nice talk with Neville. Did you know that one of his cousins earned the hand of a Veela girl?"

Harry was startled at that and glanced at Neville, who nodded at the implied question. "I didn't know. That explains a lot." It did, too, like how Neville seemed to understand him better than anyone else at school and why the other boy hadn't been afraid when confronted with an angry half-Veela. Only a truly enraged Veela would attack someone with whom they weren't actually angry.

"It does," Hermione said with a nod.

"And the ugly truth?" Harry questioned as he looked suspiciously at his friend's innocent expression.

"I cornered Neville and interrogated him ruthlessly," Hermione admitted blandly.

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed in shock.

"What?" Hermione said with a grin. "You asked."

"I can't believe you did that," Harry said, shaking his head. Actually, he was quite able to believe it. It sounded _exactly _like something she would do.

"Well, when I was done he gave me the address to the Veela council and told me to buy myself their introductory book on Veela and then to read it before I said another word to you," Hermione further explained.

"Did you?" Harry asked curiously.

"I did," Hermione nodded. "I sent off for the book Saturday morning and received it the next morning. I had no idea there was an international mail terminal in Hogsmeade. Did you? Anyway, I spent all day Sunday reading it."

Harry scrunched his forehead a moment in thought and said, "I don't remember seeing that. I'm sure I would have noticed."

"I did it the weekend you were at The Rose Inn," Hermione said.

Harry's face cleared and he said, "Ah."

"So do you think we can start on the Mediterranean tonight?" Hermione asked hopefully.

Harry laughed in delight. It seemed he'd be keeping a friend after all. "Sure, we can start on the Mediterranean tonight."

_The Quibbler, Special Flyer,_ Monday, December 2, 1996

_**Current Count of Suitors: 718**_

_Excerpt from __An Introduction to Veela__, Chapter 6 - Economic System – Careers & Caretakers_

Neville was reading his book on magical tiger-lilies when the door to the boy's dorm slammed open, startling him. He looked up to see Harry in bird form pacing back and forth agitatedly. "Is there still a common room?" Neville asked calmly.

Harry was shocked out of his pacing at the quiet question and turned to look at Neville. A few moments later he shifted back to human form with a heavy sigh. "The tapestry on the left wall is missing now," he said.

"That was the ugly one anyway," Neville said with a small smile.

Harry smiled slightly in return and closed the still quivering door before striding to his bed and flinging himself upon it.

"So was it Ron or Hermione?" Neville asked curiously as he placed a bookmark and closed his book.

"Not Hermione," Harry said with a sigh. "She's been wonderful since you guys had that talk and you had her buy that book. And it wasn't Ron either; I find him more amusing now than anything else with his petty childish insults – they're not even that creative! I just want to laugh in his face, sometimes. No, this time it was the Creevey brothers."

"What did they want a picture of this time?" Neville asked with a snort of exasperation. The Creevey brothers could really be annoying; though Dennis wouldn't be half as bad without the influence of his brother Colin.

"They want to try and re-create my destruction of the Hufflepuff table in the Room of Requirement," Harry said in disgust.

Neville frowned. That didn't sound like enough to set Harry off. There had to be something else. "And…?" he asked leadingly.

"They thought it was cool," Harry said bitterly.

"Is that what they said? That they thought the scene was _cool?_" Neville asked in disbelief.

"Yes, that's exactly what they said," Harry said angrily as he pounded a fist into his mattress. "I guess they completely forgot about the mortal insult that was dealt me."

"Obviously," Neville said, shaking his head in disgust. "Maybe they'll leave you alone now that they've had a fireball tossed at them. Did you at least singe their hair?"

Harry flipped around so that his feet now pointed towards the headboard and his head hung over the foot of the bed so he could see Neville. "It did, but I don't think it hurt them otherwise."

"Not even a few blisters?" Neville asked in disappointment.

Harry smirked and shook his head.

Neville sighed and said, "Too bad."

Harry laughed and sat up. "You're too much, Neville."

Neville just shrugged and didn't bother to hide a smirk.

Harry became serious again and said, "May I show you what I got today? Maybe you could give me some more of your good advice."

Neville raised his eyebrows then nodded and put his book on his nightstand. He watched as Harry retrieved his bag and pulled out the smallish box he had received just that morning from the suitor Neville knew was going by "D". He made room as Harry came over to sit on his bed then accepted the box when it was handed to him. At the encouraging nod, he opened it and looked over the contents in curiosity. There was a folded parchment in the lid of the box and a necklace in the main compartment that appeared to hold dozens of charms. He looked up at Harry in question.

Harry cleared his throat and held up his left wrist to show off the baby bracelet he still wore there. "Remember this?" he asked.

Neville nodded in confusion.

"That's his family," Harry said, gesturing at the necklace.

Neville's eyes widened in shock and he turned his head back to stare in stunned amazement at the necklace. "His whole family," he squeaked.

"Everyone over the age of seven except his parents," Harry confirmed.

"Seven?" Neville questioned in surprise.

"Because much younger than that and they don't really understand what's going on enough to give meaningful consent to make a charm that actually takes away a tiny piece of your magic," Harry answered. "At least, that's what he wrote."

Neville nodded and continued to stare at the necklace. Finally he looked up and asked seriously, "Why not his parents?"

"He doesn't get along with them very well and, in fact, neither does the rest of the family. Evidently his father is a bit of a black sheep," Harry said with a small shrug.

Neville nodded again. Both were quiet for several moments before Neville said reluctantly, "Harry, I didn't want to bring this up before, interference and all, but…"

"What?" Harry asked, curious as to what Neville was so uncomfortable about.

"I think I might know who "D" actually is," Neville admitted slowly. "With this necklace, well, he's awfully serious about this courtship – he got his family to agree to make the charms! – and maybe you ought to know who he is before it goes much further. At least before you meet him."

"Really," Harry said with a smirk. "Who do you think it is?"

Neville's jaw dropped for a moment before he sputtered a bit and finally exclaimed, "You know who it is!"

Harry nodded and continued to smirk. "The handwriting mostly," he said. "You?"

Neville snorted in amusement. "Same," he said. "Since when?"

"Since the beginning," Harry admitted.

"Why did you accept him?" Neville asked curiously. "Even with you doing everything to be scrupulously fair, you still could have rejected _him_ right away simply because of what happened during the feast."

Harry ran a hand through his hair and sighed before answering. "It was that first letter. I knew who it was from right away but it had really attracted my attention, what with a great huge bird landing in front of me. So I read the letter and it was just so _different _than anything I expected. I decided to let him try and show me his real self. I don't regret it."

"Well, good," Neville said uncertainly, still unsure how he felt about Draco Malfoy courting his friend and being one of said friend's favorites. A moment later he asked curiously, "What was in the letter this morning? You didn't look too happy when you read it and you didn't even read the whole thing."

Harry looked at Neville in disbelief. "Did you see it? It wasn't a letter, it was a book! There're 74 charms on that necklace and he wrote an entire page for each person! I wasn't going to read it there at the table."

"I guess that wouldn't have been the best thing. Still, I bet that Malfoy is full of angst over your decidedly lukewarm reaction to this week's gift," Neville said with a wicked grin.

Harry let out a surprised laugh. "I just bet he is."

"So why send this," Neville said, gesturing to the necklace.

"He's still nervous about revealing his identity," he said and shared a smirk with Neville. "He asked my indulgence to remain hidden but didn't want to insult me by not inviting me to come to his family's estates over the holidays to meet everyone. So, in lieu of that…"

"He's sent them to meet you," Neville said in understanding.

"Exactly," Harry said, nodding. "That parchment there in the top of the box is his family tree for the British branch of the Malfoys – though of course he doesn't identify them by name. Go ahead, take a look."

So Neville did. He pulled out the parchment and unfolded it to reveal an extensive family tree that had birth years, gender, and a nickname for each living person. He studied it for a minute then said, "You know, even though there aren't any names, you could probably figure out who each of these people were just from the birth years."

"I know," Harry said. He pointed to the top and the first male who was still alive and added, "All I would have to do would be to find a male born in 1811 whose father was born in 1786 and I'd have the family name. It might be a bit tedious but it wouldn't be that hard. I won't, though."

"Because you already know," Neville said with a nod and started refolding the chart.

"Because he asked me not to," Harry said with a shrug. "You have to admit that giving me this and then asking me not to do anything with the knowledge is placing quite a bit of trust in me. After all, Malfoy doesn't know that I know who he is."

"I suppose that's true," Neville said then asked curiously, "How long are you going to let him remain anonymous?"

Harry snorted in amusement. "Well, since he's really not, I figure for as long as he wants."

"Has he been to a meeting yet?" Neville asked. "Did he use a glamour?"

"I excused him from the meetings," Harry answered, shaking his head.

"But I thought you were testing for magic compatibility?" Neville said in surprise.

Harry lifted his arm again and waggled the bracelet.

"Ah, right," Neville said, flushing pink. "I forgot about that. Still, you're going on individual dates in the new year, right? Are you going to let him use a glamour?"

"If he wants," Harry shrugged indifferently. "There will be more important things to worry about during the date than what he looks like."

Neville nodded in understanding. "So what are you going to do with the necklace? Wear it?"

"I…don't know," Harry admitted uncomfortably. "The thing scares me, to be honest."

"Why?" Neville asked in surprise. "You wear his bracelet all the time."

"Yes, and I'm glad to. It really helps me sometimes when I'm getting too jittery from opening my magic during the meetings. It's been a godsend, really," Harry admitted as he ran a hand through his hair nervously. "But this…this is something else. I'm afraid to even touch it. I might like it too much."

"Too much?" Neville parroted.

Harry shrugged his shoulders and looked away, unable to express his thoughts.

"You're afraid it will end the courtships, aren't you?" Neville said with a sudden insight. "You're afraid that if you touch it, much less wear it, that you'll like it so much your Veela magics will choose for you and you'll be unable to decide against Malfoy in favor of another suitor, no matter what might happen with him or others. And then you'll be right back to your concerns about people claiming that you were taking advantage of the situation and not making fair evaluations."

Harry nodded sharply and said, "Yes. But it's such an amazing gift that I can't let it pass without acknowledgement of some kind. I don't know what to do with it."

"When are you meeting your suitors' families?" Neville asked.

"Summer," Harry answered promptly. "At least, that's the current plan."

"Then you probably shouldn't touch these charms until then," Neville said thoughtfully. "You don't want to be accused of giving him an unfair advantage by _meeting_ his family so much earlier than anyone else's."

Harry sighed. "That's what I figured, but still…"

"If it's too much of a temptation, maybe you should give it to your chaperone tomorrow to hold for you," Neville suggested as he closed the lid to the box.

"I…that's a really good idea," Harry said in surprise. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because you were too nervous over the whole thing to think clearly," Neville said matter-of-factly. "Sometimes it takes an outsider to think of the obvious things."

Harry shook his head in amused exasperation. "I suppose so. But that still doesn't tell me what to do."

"Read the letter, uh, book about his family and send a nice thank you note about how you appreciate the opportunity to get to know his family," Neville said and handed the box back to Harry. "He'll never know whether or not you touched the charms anyway."

Harry accepted the box and thought about the suggestion for a moment. He nodded absently as he stood. "I'll do that. Thanks, Nev," he said gratefully.

"No problem," Neville replied with a warm smile.

_The Quibbler, Special Flyer,_ Monday, December 9, 1996

_**Current Count of Suitors: 634**_

_Excerpt from __An Introduction to Veela__, Chapter 7 - Political System – Queen & Country_

Pansy took her customary seat in the middle of Draco's bed and watched as her friend retrieved the envelope that he had received that morning from his great-grandmother. She began removing her textbooks from her schoolbag and arranging them around her as Draco opened the letter and read it's contents avidly. Draco let out a sigh of relief and Pansy said, "Permission granted, I presume?"

Draco grinned and nodded. "Yes, thank Merlin."

"Congratulations," she said with a smile.

"Thank you," Draco said sincerely. "I admit I was a little worried."

"I wasn't," Pansy admitted.

"No?" Draco asked with a raised eyebrow.

Pansy shook her head. "If he was willing to excuse you from the meetings he's holding after you sent him the bracelet, it was a foregone conclusion he would excuse you from a holiday visit with the charms from your family. In my opinion."

"Maybe so," Draco said agreeable. "He said thanks for introducing the family."

"That was nice," Pansy said as she pulled out quill and parchment. "You know, I'm surprised he's being so forgiving. He doesn't seem the type."

Draco looked at his friend blankly. "Forgiving?"

"Yes," Pansy said and frowned thoughtfully. "I understand about the holidays because it's most likely he would have turned down an invitation anyway. I suppose the whole hidden identity thing you set up with your first letter is even understandable as some sort of attraction to a mystery man. But I really don't understand why he let you get away with missing the meetings. Why would he excuse you? I just _know _that there were other tests he must have conducted. There've been rumors lately that part of the testing was how polite you were to Madam Puddifoot and your competing suitors."

"Are you saying that I would have been rude?" Draco asked in amusement.

Pansy waved a quill in annoyance. "No. But I'm _sure _there must have been other tests. _Why_ did he excuse you? Did you appeal that much to his sense of forgiveness?"

Draco shook his head and replied, "I'm not appealing to his sense of forgiveness at all. I'm appealing to his sense of freedom and privacy."

"What?" Pansy asked in confusion. "How are you doing that?"

"Harry's never been free in his entire life to just be who he wants to be or do what he wants to do," Draco replied. "His family…nevermind that. The wizarding world demands he abide by some ideal of what the _Boy-Who-Lived_ should be like. So by telling him that I'm afraid that he would judge me by my family name, that I'm required to act a certain way in public, that few people know the real me, I'm showing that I can truly understand not only the constraints he's been under as an unwilling public figure but the complete lack of privacy he's been granted. I guarantee that he wishes he could have the freedom of anonymity in his life, and the subsequent privacy it would allow, so of course he will let me have it if I ask nicely."

Pansy thought about what Draco had said for nearly a full minute. "So you think that you gained his sympathy by acknowledging your fear of rejection?"

"Something like that," Draco admitted with a nod. "He understands what it is to have people judge you based on some outside influence over which you have no control. How it feels to have people simply make presumptions about what you _must _be like without bothering to look deeper. Besides, it's not as if I asked for this favor without giving anything in return."

"The stories you tell about yourself," Pansy said in understanding. "Your name remains hidden, anonymous, but you yourself are not."

Draco nodded. "Exactly. We've all seen that he likes my letters."

"He does," Pansy agreed.

"So, anything else I can clarify?" Draco asked haughtily.

"Hmmm. He likes Egypt," Pansy said

Draco blinked at the non sequitur. "What?"

"Egypt. He likes Egypt," Pansy repeated. "Padma said that Parvati said that she overheard Potter asking Granger to get some recommendations from Pince about Egypt because he wanted to buy some additional books. And he liked the robe, pajamas, and slippers you sent. He's gotten a few other bathrobes and slippers, but he wears yours as often as any of the others."

Draco's eyes widened as he finally caught on to what Pansy was saying. He grinned widely and said, "Right. Egypt. Excellent. You'll still keep an ear out?"

Pansy rolled here eyes. "Of course. Are you going to tell me why you need to know?"

"No," Draco replied, still grinning.

"Damn it," Pansy mumbled.

Draco merely smirked.

_The Quibbler, Special Flyer,_ Monday, December 16, 1996

_**Current Count of Suitors: 546**_

_Excerpt from __An Introduction to Veela__, Chapter 8 - A Brief History: Domestic_

"What are you going to do over the holidays, Harry?" asked Hermione as she watched her friend open yet another vial of bath oil and take an inquisitive sniff. "And I thought Veela hated scented things."

Harry shook his head and recapped the current vial – Cedar – and said, "No. It's just the stuff that wizards use that we hate and only because it's much too strong. These have been specially manufactured to appeal to Veela."

"Oh," Hermione said as she filed away that clarifying piece of trivia. "Do you like them?"

"I'm not so sure about the trees," Harry replied absently. "I like the flowers so far."

"With the way he's been dressing you, I'm surprised he sent you bath oils," Hermione said curiously. "It seems a strange change of pace."

"He said it's to help me relax over the holidays," Harry said with a small huffed laugh as he opened the vial labeled wisteria.

"What are you doing over the holidays?" Hermione asked again.

"Relaxing," Harry said with another laugh. "Continue reading about Egypt."

"You should at least try to read some of your textbooks," Hermione suggested mildly. "You've missed a lot of class."

Harry gave a small snort as he recapped the wisteria. "Maybe," he said, "but I don't see much of a point. I still won't have time to attend classes when I get back from the holidays as I have to start meeting with my suitors individually."

"Oh, right," Hermione said, flushing slightly in embarrassment. "I can't believe I forgot."

Harry grinned at her as he uncapped the sandalwood. "That's all right. I wish I could forget."

Before Hermione could respond, Professor McGonagall arrived and stiffly informed Harry that the headmaster wished to see him upon his return from Hogsmeade. Harry politely acknowledged her message then turned to gather his things to leave.

"Don't mind her, Harry," Ginny said from two places over. "She's just jealous."

Harry let out a surprised laugh, a great improvement from his resentful scowl, and said, "Jealous, huh? That's funny. Whatever her problem is, she shouldn't be taking it out on me."

"I think she's angry that you're neglecting your education," Hermione said then added hurriedly, "Not that you are! But I think that's why she's so angry with you."

"Well, if her boss hadn't made me into an icon then I wouldn't be having to neglect it, now would I?" Harry asked bitterly. "I'd be a nice normal half-Veela with only a couple dozen suitors who still had time for such trivialities."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said sadly while others around her winced at Harry's tone and prayed that his temper held.

Harry smiled sadly at his friend without comment. He stood from the table and lifted his bag over his shoulders then put on his cloak. He paused for several moments to run his hands over the super-soft fur then turned and made his way out of the great hall without another word.

Despite knowing what he had to look forward to that evening, both the luncheon and the dinner went very well. Nobody was rude, tried to cast spells on him, tried to dose him with a potion, nor wore any offending scents. Overall, an excellent day.

These were the thoughts Harry kept in mind as he sat in a squat, gaudy, overstuffed chair in the Headmaster's office waiting for the old man to speak. Eventually the headmaster would realize that Harry was perfectly willing to sit all night waiting for the other to start the conversation. Harry had an idea what the conversation might be about and wasn't planning on giving an inch, and that included showing the headmaster that he wasn't going to become impatient, uncomfortable, or intimated by the old man's silence and slightly disappointed looking gaze. Harry was determined that Dumbledore would be the first to give in, thereby setting the tone of the conversation.

Eventually Dumbledore gave Harry an even more disappointed look – which Harry ignored – and said, "You stated in your October interview that you would stop holding group meetings after the 20th and will start individual meetings on January 6th. Will you be pursuing other courting related tasks during that time?"

"No," Harry admitted easily, his suspicions about the meeting's topic starting to be confirmed. "I'm going to take a break from all my courting tasks over the holidays."

"Do you have other plans, then?" Dumbledore asked.

"Relaxation and fun. Just like every other student," Harry said pointedly.

Dumbledore ignored the slight barb – as Harry had expected – and made his first foray into the real topic of the meeting. "I've spoken with the Dursleys and they tell me that for the last two summers you've locked yourself up in your room and refused any familial interaction."

Harry said nothing and merely looked at the headmaster indifferently. He knew for certain now where this conversation was going and planned on making it as difficult as possible for the headmaster to get his answers. After all, actually being _direct_ in his questions and speech would have to twist something in the old man's brain, wouldn't it?

Dumbledore's disappointed look deepened and he asked sternly, "Were you at your relatives' house over the past two summers, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry answered honestly. The question wasn't about how _long_ he had been there, now was it?

Dumbledore looked down his glasses at Harry disapprovingly as if he could actually sense the lie or the hiding of the truth. "Did you live there for a significant amount of time, Harry?"

"You already know the answer to that, Headmaster," Harry said blandly, "Why ask me?"

"I'd like to hear it from you, Harry," Dumbledore said seriously.

Harry wondered what kind of reaction his answer would garner as he said, "I think I've spent maybe two whole days there over the last two summers."

Dumbledore's eyes widened slightly in surprise before he once again controlled his expression. "That is much worse than I had thought, my boy. You need to spend sufficient time there to power the wards."

Harry shrugged his disinterest. He didn't care about the wards.

"To let them fall would be irresponsible," Dumbledore said tightly. "The wards protect your relatives as well as yourself."

Harry gave a small snort at that and shrugged again. He _definitely_ couldn't care less if his relatives were protected.

"You need that protection for when you face Voldemort, Harry," Dumbledore admonished sternly. "As you've let the wards diminish so greatly over the last two years, they will need your presence longer than just summer to fully recharge. Since you've agreed that you won't be pursuing courtships during the holidays, you will be spending that time with your relatives. I've already made arrangements."

Harry raised his eyebrows at the fact that Dumbledore was getting to the point of the conversation so quickly; he'd expected at least another ten minutes of pointless conversation. "I will not stay with the Dursleys," he said.

"Yes, Harry, you will," Dumbledore said firmly. "You need to recharge the protective wards that you've been willfully neglecting for so long. In addition, for the best effect on the wards, I'm afraid that while you're there that you will not be able to leave the house at all."

Harry merely blinked at Dumbledore's pronouncement.

"If you hadn't been so irresponsible over the last two summers this wouldn't be necessary," Dumbledore scolded. "Make sure you are packed for Saturday morning. You will be taking the Hogwarts express to King's Cross with the other students where your uncle will meet you."

Harry said nothing. He most definitely wasn't going to go to the Dursleys for the holidays, but he'd let Dumbledore have this little apparent victory.

"Do you understand, Harry?" Dumbledore asked sternly.

"I understand," Harry said, "May I leave?"

"You may go," Dumbledore said, watching Harry's reactions intently.

So Harry left, all the while fingering the small silver pinky ring that he'd worn continuously for the past year and a half. It was a nervous habit Harry had acquired over that time that everyone had witnessed upon several occasions, so Dumbledore thought nothing of it.


	14. Chaperone Revealed

A/N: (grin) I didn't even realize that I was leaving a cliff-hanger last chapter. I just thought the whole bit with the ring was foreshadowing! I don't know whether I should be sad I failed or pleased at the actual effect. (lol)

Cookies to RRW, Murphyangel, noperfect917 for figuring out where Harry was going!

**Chapter 14 – Chaperone Revealed **

Saturday morning came and Harry packed the last of his things into his new trunk. He found it inordinately amusing that if Rachel Danvers had waited just one more week to place her bet on a chiffonier trunk, and they were betting on his gifts in general and not just Draco's, she would have won the weekly pot. Carlos Tinoco, a minor noble from Spain, had made it onto Harry's favorites list by sending just such a trunk.

The chiffonier was, according to Carlos, once of the less elaborate ones, but had a special spell crafted into it that Carlos thought would make up for any lack of fancy features. And, indeed, Harry quite agreed that the international homing charm made up for any lack of special whiz-bang features he would probably rarely use. But a homing charm – basically a portkey attuned to his magical call – oh, yes, _that _was useful. Especially when he started traveling. And he _was_ going to travel. That hadn't been a convenient story for _The Quibbler_.

He ceased admiring his trunk and left to join his friends as they made their way through the school and to the carriages that would take them to the Hogwarts Express. He amused himself watching Hermione restrain herself from asking questions until they made it to the privacy of a carriage. The poor girl looked fit to burst!

"Why are you coming with us this year?" Hermione asked breathlessly. "You never leave for holidays. Are you really going to be staying with your relatives? And for the whole holiday? I thought you didn't like the Dursleys."

"I don't," Harry confirmed with a grin, barely refraining from laughter as his friend finally let loose her questions.

Hermione looked confused. "Then why are you going back to them this year?"

"Because Dumbledore wants me to," Harry said.

"But you haven't in previous years," Hermione said, still confused but now also determined to figure out the puzzle. "There has to be some other reason."

Harry seriously contemplated his friend for several moments but decided to go ahead and reveal Dumbledore's reasons. His relationship with Hermione was still good, but he couldn't help but somewhat doubt where her final allegiances would lie. When it came right down to a choice, would she support him and his freedom? Or would she side with the headmaster and his so-called duty? Testing her in this way might not be the most honorable thing to do, it was actually rather underhanded, but he needed to know and he might as well find out sooner rather than later.

He glanced around the carriage at the others accompanying them. Neville merely looked interested – he didn't know much yet about the way the Dursleys had treated an innocent child. Ginny looked angry – she did know and had already expressed her displeasure. Still, she might agree with the headmaster anyway, given what was at stake. The last person, one he hadn't had much contact with at all this year but still saw occasionally, especially around Ginny, was Luna Lovegood. Luna returned his regard with a very slight smile. The more he was around the girl this year the more he was certain that she _knew _things. She _knew _things and Harry was too afraid to ask just what those things might be.

"There are wards at the Dursley residence that are powered by my presence," Harry said emotionlessly. "The longer I stay in the house the stronger the wards are. The longer I'm away from the house the weaker they are."

Hermione nodded but there was a frown on her face. "I've never heard of wards like that," she said slowly.

"They're blood wards," Neville said in astonishment. "That's how blood wards work."

Hermione looked at Neville in curiosity then at Harry for confirmation.

Harry nodded and said, "Yes, exactly. They're blood wards. They were based off my mother's sacrifice. They protect me from Voldemort and the Death Eaters and they protect my relatives from wizards in general."

"But that still doesn't explain why the headmaster wants you to go back there this year when you've never gone back before," Hermione persisted. "And what's so special about blood wards?"

"Blood wards are the strongest type of wards there are," Neville said, shaking his head, still astonished at the revelation. "A properly raised blood ward is almost impossible to bypass. Of course, they're almost impossible _to_ raise properly. Gran says that that's actually the only reason they're not illegal, the fact that so few people can even try to raise them. The headmaster…?"

Harry nodded at Neville's unfinished question.

Hermione and Ginny both looked impressed. This time it was Ginny that reiterated the question. "But why do you have to go back _this _year?"

"Because I haven't been at that house for any appreciable length of time since the summer after third year and the wards have deteriorated almost to the point of no return," Harry admitted.

"You haven't?" Ginny asked in surprise. "Where did you go?"

"Somewhere else," Harry said while eyeing Luna warily. The girl hadn't said a word but the small smile was still on her face. She _knew_ where he went, he was certain. He wondered how long she had known.

"But if your presence is required to recharge the wards isn't it irresponsible to go anywhere else but back to them?" Hermione questioned in confusion.

"I don't care about the wards, Hermione," Harry said. He glanced around at the reactions of his companions. Neville looked sad, as if he suspected just why Harry had such an attitude. Hermione looked confused. Ginny looked righteous – it would probably take her a while to understand the implications. And Luna was smiling. He shivered.

"Why not?" Hermione asked in surprise.

"Because they hate me and I hate them. Why should I care if there are wards around their house or not. Let them fall," Harry said contemptuously.

"But wouldn't they be in danger? Just for being your relatives?" Hermione asked, still surprised at Harry's lack of concern despite his confession.

Harry shrugged. "Probably," he said indifferently.

Hermione paused then said slowly, "Well, the wards protect you, too. And even if you do hate your relatives, it's still the right thing to do to make sure that they have wards to keep the Death Eaters out."

"Maybe so," Harry said then added bitterly, "It would also have been the right thing to do to provide me with a decent childhood instead of the neglect that they practiced. I see no reason why I should give anything back to them when they gave less than nothing to me." He was quiet a few moments then added, "And I don't care about the protection from the wards. I don't need it, especially at the price of dealing with _them_."

Hermione was quiet. She knew her friend had not had the best home life but she hadn't realized that it was so bad. "So you wouldn't care whether or not they were killed?" she asked softly.

"Of course I would care," Harry protested then ruined Hermione's relief by adding, "I definitely want to know when it is I need to celebrate."

"That's mean, Harry," Hermione said disapprovingly.

Harry shrugged. "They would do no less." And it was true. He remembered an incident, when he was eight or nine, when Vernon had pointed out a bottle of expensive scotch that he had recently purchased and said that he would open the bottle when Harry was finally dead and out of their lives forever.

Further conversation was delayed as Hogsmeade Station came into sight. The group silently moved from the carriage to a compartment on the train. Conversation slowly started up again, all mention of the wards deliberately avoided, and the ride to London passed pleasantly.

By the time everyone started to disembark, Harry was certain of several things. First, Luna was more creepy than she had ever been and understood, fully, what was going on. Second, Neville supported him and understood, mostly, what was going on. Third, Hermione and Ginny supported him but _didn't_ really understand what was going on. Hermione would figure it out by the time school started up again, though. Ginny probably wouldn't. And, fourth, he was really going to enjoy bursting Dumbledore's little delusional bubble of Harry Potter obedience.

The five of them made it to the platform and Luna, Neville, and Ginny said their goodbyes and worked their way over to their respective families. Harry waited with Hermione until she spotted her parents then escorted her over to them.

Hermione hugged Harry hard and said sadly, "Good luck with the Dursleys."

Harry returned the hug then stepped back and gave a smirk. "Don't worry about me," he said smugly as he thumbed his pinky ring and sent a burst of magic into it.

"But…" Hermione started only to stop when Harry shook his head.

Very deliberately, and with great relish, Harry said, "I'm not spending Christmas with the Dursleys," and disappeared.

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise then she started laughing. She should have known that Harry would slip his leash! She only laughed harder when she heard a commotion and saw Kingsley Shacklebolt heading in her direction.

--HPDM--

"Damn it," Harry muttered as he sprawled gracelessly across the marble floor. Two summers of frequent portkey travel and he _still _landed on his arse!

A warm chuckle sounded above and behind him and Harry climbed to his feet to greet the man that had been waiting for him. "Hello, grandfather."

"Hello, Harry," the man said as he stepped forward to engulf his grandson in a hug. "How was your trip?"

"I landed on my arse!" Harry mumbled into the warm shoulder of his maternal grandfather.

The man laughed then said, "I meant your time on then train. Was it pleasant? Did you enjoy time with your friends? Were you harassed? Did you have any problems getting away?"

"Yes. Yes. No. No," Harry answered succinctly. He made no move to leave the embrace, knowing his grandfather would never refuse him the small affection.

"Good," the man said softly and continued to hold his grandson close. He was at once pleased that his grandson loved to be hugged and saddened at the reasons why a young man, one at the age when it was more normal to push away adults so as to assert independence, would relish such affections.

Harry leaned even more into his grandfather's warmth. He loved this man, loved him fiercely. When he had first met Robert Delamater they had been very awkward in each other's presence. Robert hadn't realized he'd had a daughter, much less a grandson, and hadn't known how to act. Harry hadn't known how to respond around an adult that was genuinely concerned for _him _and _only _him. Even Sirius had deferred to the headmaster when it came to Harry. They'd quickly gotten over their shyness, however, and had grown quite close. He'd told his grandfather things about himself that he'd told no one else and probably never would.

Harry leaned back slightly so he could see his grandfather's face and said, "I have so much to tell you!"

"So much?" Robert questioned in amusement. "But you saw me just yesterday!"

"That's different!" Harry protested. "I don't get to tell you any of the good stuff while you're playing chaperone. We're too busy evaluating people."

"Good stuff? I've been missing out on the good stuff?" Robert asked in mock dismay.

Harry nodded eagerly. "I have to show you all the things my favorites sent me. You should see what Eric sent me yesterday! And Neville had another suggestion about Draco. I'm eliminating Michael, though. And Herbert. Neither of them sent invitations…"

Robert laughed. "Slow down, young one. We have time for you to tell me all the _good stuff._ Aren't you hungry? I asked for dinner to be ready when you arrived."

"Yes!" Harry agreed enthusiastically and pulled away fully only to grab his grandfather's hand and start pulling him towards the private dining room. "Maybe after dinner you can help me go through all my music marbles so I can send off my Christmas presents."

"Of course. A worthy endeavor," Robert agreed with a smile as he allowed himself to be pulled along. "I have a surprise for you regarding your music."

"Really?" Harry asked with pleased grin as he stopped to look back at his grandfather.

"I have arranged with a vendor in Paris to exchange all your duplicate marbles for a small fee," Robert said, still smiling in amusement.

"A small fee?" Harry questioned doubtfully.

"A mere twenty galleons which includes his silence as well as staying open for two hours after normal closing one evening to help you find music you like," Robert elaborated. "He is most eager to meet you."

"Because I'm the Boy-Who-Lived," Harry said bitterly. "At least the title is good for something, I suppose."

"Because you are my grandson," Robert corrected gently.

Harry blinked then frowned in confusion and stared at his grandfather questioningly.

"He is half-Veela and raised primarily in a Veela environment. He is more excited to meet you because of your ancestry than because of some silly British nickname," Robert said and squeezed his grandson's hand gently.

Harry stared blankly for a few moments before grinning broadly. It was still a shallow reason to want to meet him, but at least it was a shallow reason based on reality and not a shallow reason based on some ridiculous made-up story of savior-hood. "I can't wait," he said eagerly.

"We shall go Monday, then, as that is the day he closes earliest," Robert said and took over the tugging towards the dining room.

Harry followed obediently and said, "We should have everything sorted by then, for certain. If we left a little early, I could send out all my presents then, too."

"Then that is what we shall do," Robert said and continued to lead them towards the wafting smells of food.

--HPDM--

"This is ridiculous!" Kingsley Shacklebolt exclaimed loudly. "How can one boy evade us? He shouldn't have been able to detect the tracking spells, much less transfer them to someone else!"

Several Order members murmured their agreement while others simply nodded and yet others smirked and/or watched in amusement.

"Nevertheless, that is what has happened," Albus said grimly. "Harry somehow detected the tracking spells and transferred them from himself to Luna Lovegood. It appears he has also acquired an untraceable portkey."

"It's not completely untraceable," Alastor interjected. All attention immediately turned to him.

"Please elaborate, Alastor," Albus said with a small hope in his eyes.

Alastor smiled, a look that appeared fierce instead of relaying the amusement that he actually felt, and said, "The portkey signature is registered with the International Confederation of Wizards as a legally made untraceable portkey."

"And what does that mean, exactly," Charlie Weasley asked in bewilderment. "Is it traceable or not?"

"It's traceable inasmuch as we were able to discover that it is a legal portkey that is untraceable," Alastor said with a chuckle.

"This is not amusing, Alastor," Albus reprimanded firmly. "Who is the portkey legally issued to?"

Alastor continued to chuckle, completely unfazed by Albus' disapproval. "That's classified."

"Then…we're out of luck?" Charlie asked hesitantly.

"That we are, lad. That we are," Alastor said, barking a laugh before falling silent. He still grinned, however. He had to hand it to the Potter lad; that was a smooth escape. Nobody had suspected a thing.

Unlike Alastor Moody, Albus found nothing about this situation to be anything other than completely grim. After his talk with Harry earlier in the week, he had gone personally to evaluate the wards at Privet Drive. Without Harry's presence they would fail by February or March, April at the latest. That _could not_ happen. It was _imperative _that it did not happen. And yet, he knew that his hands would be tied if Harry was not found before he returned to Hogwarts and resumed his courting. Albus would not be able to demand that Harry spend the days at the Dursleys instead of courting. Neither would he be able to demand that Harry spend the nights at his relatives as it was the law that all Hogwarts students sleep at the school during term and, despite the circumstances, Harry was still considered a student.

"What were you able to discover from his friends," Albus asked Kingsley stiffly.

"Nothing useful," Kingsley admitted angrily. "Miss Granger laughed at us and said she had known nothing. Ginny Weasley laughed at us and said it served us right for trying to send Harry back to, and I quote, those monsters. Mr. Longbottom said he had suspected that Potter had something up his sleeve but could provide no details. Miss Lovegood…"

"Yes," Albus prompted impatiently.

Kingsley shifted uncomfortably and said reluctantly, "She claimed that it was the season for the glitterpuffs to bring worthy people to visit their havens."

"I see," Albus said with a sigh as he rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Alastor, is there no way to get access to the name of the owner of the portkey Harry used? Or it's home country at the very least?"

"I doubt it, Albus," Moody said gruffly. "You can certainly try but I got the impression that the inquiry had been expected and that further information would never be forthcoming. For all we know, Potter might be the legal owner of that portkey."

Albus looked up in alarm at that possibility. Harry with ICW contacts? That could end in disaster! "How likely do you believe that to be, Alastor?"

Moody raised his eyebrows in surprise at the intensity of Albus' question. "I'd say it's actually a better than even possibility. The owners of ICW untraceable portkeys are generally people of high station that aren't the type to give up such a valuable artifact for any length of time to anybody, not even family. While they certainly have the right to let anybody use their portkey, the likelihood that anybody they would want to let use it doesn't already have their own is relatively small. In short, I wouldn't be surprised if it _does _belong to the lad. Legally."

The possibility presented by Alastor chilled Albus to the bone. If Harry was cultivating foreign contacts, and was already leaving the country during his summer vacations… Well, that didn't bode well for Harry taking his wartime duties seriously. In fact, it seemed to indicate that Harry was doing his best to _avoid _his responsibilities to the British wizarding world. That _must not_ happen. _It must not!_

Albus controlled his oncoming panic attack with a force of will developed over a century. "Let us put aside the question of Harry's location for the time being and hear from our suitors. It is the evening of the 20th and the secrecy spells should have lifted. Severus?"

"I was dismissed," Severus said shortly. It was apparent that the man couldn't decide whether to be pleased that he was free of such a personally distasteful duty or infuriated at being eliminated.

Albus sighed. "Well, that was not unexpected. What reason was given, if you don't mind sharing?"

Severus sneered. "I was rude to the overdressed, over-dramatic, gossiping old biddy that runs that abhorrent establishment when she refused to escort me to my appointment with the brat."

Everyone stared at Severus when he finished speaking, most realizing that there must be more to the story. Instead of questioning his potion master further, Albus simply turned to the Weasley brothers. "Boys?"

"I've passed," Charlie said slowly. Reluctantly, he filled in the spaces of Severus' story, "When I first arrived at Madam Puddifoot's and asked to be taken to Harry, she refused. She said that my name wasn't on the list of visitors for the day."

"The same for me," Bill volunteered from where he sat next to his brother.

Charlie nodded and continued more confidently. "I gave her my postcard that showed the time and date and asked again to be taken to Harry. She again refused but agreed when I asked her to check with Harry about the discrepancy. She returned with another postcard that said I had passed the test of being civil in the face of obstacles, or something like that."

"Unforeseen obstacles," Bill supplied helpfully.

"Right," Charlie said and continued his story. "The postcard said to come back for dinner…"

"Lunch," Bill said.

"So I did," Charlie said with a glance towards his brother. "There were ten other suitors there and we all spent a very nice two hours eating dinner and talking."

"Eleven others," Bill interrupted again.

"I don't even know what it was we ate. Some kind of bird, duck I think, with some kind of sauce for the main course. Some kind of squash. A salad. Some cheese and bread. It was good but I've no idea what it was," Charlie said and looked at his brother expectantly.

"Lamb and beets," Bill said with a shrug.

"The menu is hardly important," Marcus said with annoyance.

"Then we started mingling," Charlie said, completely ignoring the interruption. "I met some very interesting people. Harry came to each of us to talk and hold hands."

"Hold hands?" asked Hestia Jones. "You mean shake hands?"

Both Charlie and Bill shook their heads. "No," Charlie said. "I mean hold hands. He was feeling our magic. When he held my hand I felt him unfurling his magic so I did the same. That was one of the main objectives of the meetings, remember, to determine magic compatibility."

"And were you compatible?" Molly Weasley asked eagerly.

"Yes."

"No."

The brothers looked at each other and silently agreed that Bill would continue the report. "Harry dropped my hand like a hot frying pan and nearly fainted," Bill said. "I, as well as everyone else, knew immediately that I had been eliminated. I don't know why my magic was so hostile toward Harry's, but it was. I was allowed to stay for the remainder of the gathering, though, and socialize with everyone else. Like Charlie did, I met some interesting people. I've even kept in contact with one of them."

"Did anything else of interest happen at the meeting?" Albus asked. "Were you able to determine who passed and who didn't?"

Charlie answered first. "I think there were two, maybe three, people who were eliminated for incompatible magic. Otherwise, there wasn't anything else of note that happened."

"There were seven eliminated in my group," Bill added. "It makes sense, though. My group was just last week and Charlie's was the beginning of November."

"How is that relevant?" Arthur asked curiously. Unlike Molly, he wasn't disappointed that his boys were being eliminated from the courtships. It was his opinion that none of his boys were really a good match for Harry and he did want the boy to be happy.

"It has to do with the amount of stress Harry is under," Albus said with a sigh. He was disappointed that they were down to only one suitor. Still, at least it was the one whom he'd thought at the start would be the best match.

"It has to do with sensitivity," Bill expanded. "With Harry opening his magic so often to so many people he undoubtedly became more and more sensitive to what was and wasn't compatible with his own magic. As the weeks progressed he would naturally eliminate more and more people due to compatibility issues. Of course, it would also have made the violent reactions even worse for him. Hence why he almost fainted when feeling my magic instead of simply pulling away in distaste."

"So what now?" Marcus asked curiously. "You're to meet with him again, right?"

Charlie shrugged his shoulders in bafflement. "I don't know. I've sent a Christmas present along with an invitation to come over for Christmas dinner, but I've not heard back."

"You know he won't be able to come for dinner, Charles," Albus scolded lightly.

Charlie shrugged again. "I thought it was only polite to invite him." He didn't say anything about how, given his escape, it was quite obvious that Harry _could _come for dinner if he pleased.

"Your date?" Marcus persisted.

"I don't know," Charlie answered again. "I know as much as you. Individual dates are supposed to start on the 6th but I've not heard back."

"You'll probably get a date in January," Elphias said.

"That's what I figured," Charlie said, nodding.

"What? Why?" Hestia asked in confusion.

"First out, first notified, first met, first date" Moody said with his own nod. "You realize you have a high chance of being eliminated for incompatibility, don't you?"

"Yes," Charlie answered.

"What?" Hestia asked again, still confused. "Why?"

"Idiot woman," Severus snapped. "Have you no brain of your own? Potter was not nearly as sensitive to magic with those he met first. Therefore, they run a high risk of being eliminated for incompatibility when they meet for the second time. The later suitors who passed have a greater chance of also passing the next round. At least as far as compatibility is concerned."

"Well, pardon me for not knowing everything," Hestia snapped back.

"Does anyone have any ideas about what might comprise the next round?" Albus asked before the meeting could degenerate into bickering.

There was nearly a minute of silence before Alastor finally answered. "This would be a good time for the lad to give another interview," he suggested slowly. "That first article did mention that he had agreed to a _series_ of interviews. Now that the second round is over, I can see the lad explaining his tests and his reasoning behind them, much like he did after round one. Maybe more information about the next round will be in the new article."

Several people nodded thoughtfully at Moody's suggestion.

"That doesn't explain why he's not yet contacted Charlie, though," Arthur said. "Harry will have to contact each suitor to arrange an individual date. I can't imagine that he would make the schedule public."

"I think there might be something else going on," Bill said as he stared at the opposite wall with narrowed eyes.

"Why do you say that?" Arthur asked. He wasn't the only one who looked at Bill curiously.

"Well, think about it. There are over 500 people at last count," Bill said. "If you presume that round three lasts as long as round two, that is, two months, just how would he meet that many people for individual dates in just 60 days?"

"Maybe round three is longer," Arthur suggested tentatively. "Maybe it'll last as long as it needs to last until he finishes meeting with everybody."

Bill shook his head. "No, something's up," he said intently. "He has a limited time to mate. No submissive has lasted longer than a year and a half without mating and most unmated ones die by twelve or thirteen months. I think it's safe to presume that there is a round four." He looked around briefly for understanding and saw most of the Order nodding in agreement.

"Harry has a strong will," Bill continued, "so I think it's not unreasonable to presume that he could last the full eighteen months. He won't actually _want _to, I'm sure. It gets pretty grim for a submissive Veela the longer they wait."

"Where is this going?" Marcus interrupted impatiently but subsided when Albus raised a hand.

"Continue your thoughts, William," Albus encouraged.

Bill nodded absently and continued thinking out loud. "I think it would be a logical presumption that round three will be over by the end of the school year, Harry's birthday at the latest. So that gives him, what, seven months? So he has to meet 500-some-odd people in about 200 or so days."

"Two or three people a day," Alastor murmured. "That's certainly possible."

"Yes," Bill agreed. "But not very practical. It leaves him with such a short time to conduct future rounds, plus he'd be desperate by then and not thinking as clearly. It would make so much more sense if he made another big elimination somehow so that he could still meet two or three people a day but only have half as many people and thereby start round four that much earlier."

"But how?" Alastor asked.

Bill looked up thoughtfully and shook his head slowly. "I don't know. But there's _something_ that we're missing. _Something _is going to happen between now and the 6th. It has to. Nothing else really makes sense."

Albus sighed his frustration and said, "Perhaps it would be best to follow Alastor's suggestion and wait until after the next article has been published. There is nothing more we can do without any additional input from Harry."

The meeting broke quickly after that and Albus found himself back in his personal chambers within half an hour. He hadn't bothered assigning any Order members to search for Harry. Many people saw him as an idealist, and he was, but he was also quite experienced with reality and he knew a lost cause when he saw one. The blood wards would not be renewed. While the lack of protection offered by the wards would greatly hinder Harry in his defeat of Voldemort, it wouldn't make the task impossible. He just hoped that Harry was not abandoning the fight.

Albus sat in his favorite chair and pet Fawkes, letting the phoenix' song soothe his fears. He prayed to all the gods that Charlie Weasley won the suit for Harry's hand and convinced Harry to stay in Britain and defend his countrymen in the coming war. He prayed to all his ancestors that even if another prevailed with Harry that the young man would not abandon his homeland to devastation by the dark. He prayed to all he held dear that the remainder of Trelawney's prophecy did not come true.

--end chapter--

Delamater - (origin: Fr.) "Le maitre," the master, overseer, landlord, preceptor.

Hmmm, does this count as a cliffhanger, too? (grin) More about the prophecy in chapter 19...


	15. Interview 3

**Chapter 15 – Interview **

_The Quibbler, Special Edition,_ Monday, December 23, 1996

_**Current Count of Suitors: 352**_

**Harry Potter Begins Next Round of Testing!**

**Read the exclusive interview with our very own Mr. Xenophilius Lovegood!**

_Our third interview with Mr. Harry Potter covers his second round of testing, including a summary of the tests, their results, and the reasoning behind them. Passing suitors beware! Follow Mr. Potter's instructions by January 5th or be eliminated! Mr. Potter also offered additional information regarding his personal dreams, goals, and beliefs in an effort to help his remaining suitors decide whether to continue pursuing their courtship. Below you will find our conversation that took place at an unknown location the morning of Sunday, December 22nd._

LG:"Good morning, Harry. How are you doing today?"

HP:"I am well, thank you. Yourself?"

LG:"I'm excellent! Well, I'm sure you have last minute holiday things to do, so shall we start right in?"

HP:"I'd be happy to."

LG:"I see your meetings went well. You started with 1,029 and you just told me you were down to 352. That's another sixty percent!"

HP:"Yes. Most of the suitors I eliminated were because I didn't feel their magic was compatible enough with mine. Some were eliminated for personality traits that I didn't care for."

LG:"Like discourtesy? Is there any truth to the rumor that you eliminated suitors because they were rude to Madam Puddifoot?"

HP:"Yes, that's true."

LG:"Are the two of you such good friends that you took offense on her behalf?"

HP:"No. We're business associates, that's all, and I took advantage of her acting skills. It was actually one of my tests. The suitor would ask for me and she would tell them that their name wasn't on the list for the day. You see, I wanted to find out how my potential suitors responded to frustration; did they keep a cool head to try to work things out or did they vent their temper. If they were rude to Madam Puddifoot, whose fault it certainly wasn't that their name wasn't on the supposed list, I eliminated them. I don't want a mate who gets upset and obnoxious and rants and raves over something a few simple minutes of civil conversation could easily solve."

LG:"Ah, I see. And how many did you eliminate for…letting frustration win?"

HP:"An even 150 people were eliminated for _being rude_. I wasn't completely unreasonable, you know. The situation was _meant _to be frustrating so I didn't eliminate someone simply because they actually _became_ frustrated. I only eliminated people who took their frustration out inappropriately. For instance, a number of people called Madam Puddifoot some rather rude names. How does that help anything? What kind of problem solving skills do you have if you resort to childish name-calling?"

LG:"So this particular test was also looking for problem solving ability?"

HP:"Yes. Let's face it, my life has some pretty unique challenges that anybody mated with me is going to also have to deal with. I don't need a mate whose first instinct in the face of an obstacle is to get belligerent instead of thinking."

LG:"I suppose it would also help in those inevitable married arguments."

HP:(laugh) "Yes, I suppose it would. A nice benefit, I agree."

LG:"So, let's see, subtract 150 from 1,029 and you get…879 suitors left. Still a lot to go."

HP:"Well, like I said, most were eliminated for magic incompatibility. And before you ask, the total for that was 397."

LG:"And 397 from…"

HP:"That leaves 482."

LG:"Hmmm. That was about forty percent right there."

HP:"Yes. And I'd like to issue a warning to all my passing suitors, if you don't mind. Especially the ones that came to an earlier meeting."

LG:"Of course, of course. Please go ahead."

HP:"My sensitivity to magic has greatly increased. Don't be surprised if you get eliminated for magic compatibility on your date even if you passed at your meeting."

LG:"Greatly increased?"

HP:"Greatly. At first I only eliminated about four people out of the group of twelve that I met. At the last meeting it was eight."

LG:"So, that means those that passed at the first meetings have about a fifty-fifty chance of being eliminated now, right?"

HP:"Yes, that's right. The later the meeting attended, the less chance the suitor has of that happening."

LG:"Well, let's hope they take that warning to heart. There's still another 130 people to go, however, before you get down to the 352 you said was your current tally. What else caused eliminations?"

HP:"There were 13 people who were eliminated for assault…"

LG:"Assault!"

HP:"Yes. Either they tried to cast some sort of spell on me or they brought or sent a magical device meant to influence me in some way. There was even one man who had a potion spread on his hands that would have bound me to him had I touched him."

LG:(gasp) "My goodness. My goodness. Did you call the aurors?"

HP:"I let the Veela Council deal with them."

LG:"The Veela Council… I don't imagine they were very merciful."

HP:"I've no idea. I didn't bother to follow up on the results of the inquiry. I simply gave my statement, such as it was since it was actually the guards that caught them all, and put it out of my mind."

LG:"You know, there was speculation that the guards you had escort you to and from Hogwarts were actually Veela."

HP:"They are. They are duly licensed bodyguards that my chaperone has hired for the duration of my courtships."

LG:"Will they be attending the dates, too?"

HP:"Of course."

LG:"I see. That wasn't really a serious question, you know."

HP:"I know, but it was a serious answer. The guards, as well as my chaperone, will be attending all dates."

LG:"I see. Well, I suppose it's been proven that they've been necessary."

HP:"Yes."

LG:"Well, let's continue! A total of 482 minus 13 for assault is 469 suitors left! What's next?"

HP:"I eliminated 22 for wearing cologne."

LG:(pause) "Cologne?"

HP:"It goes back to respect and me not wanting to have to educate my mate about Veela. They've had plenty of time to do their research. Veela hate the strong scents that wizards like to use. It's not as if it's a well-hidden fact or anything. There're nearly four pages about it in _An Introduction to Veela_!"

LG:"Hmmm… Well… I guess that makes sense, then."

HP:"Of course it does. The very first thing any of the suitors should have done was a bit of research about what they would be getting involved in if they mated with a half-Veela. _An Introduction to Veela_ would have been a perfect starting place and there is quite the prominent discussion about the differences in wizard and Veela scenting ability. Personally, I was rather surprised that anybody was caught by a basic Veela difference given what happened at the first round of testing."

LG:"True, true. A very good point. But that still leaves 447 suitors left. There's still almost 100 left to go."

HP:"There was another test, one that was after the meetings, that was failed by 95 suitors. That brings the total to the 352 that I originally told you."

LG:"Really? And what was that, may I ask?"

HP:"Of course. I've stated many times that family is very important to me. In both Veela and wizard traditions it would have been the proper thing to do for my suitors to invite me to meet with their families over the holidays. I eliminated those who didn't."

LG:"But you wouldn't have been able to meet with all those families!"

HP:"So? That's completely immaterial. The invitation should have been extended even if they were certain I would refuse."

LG:"What about Headmaster Dumbledore's admonition in _The Daily Prophet _that you wouldn't be able to go visiting unknown people and places because of safety concerns?"

HP:"What about it? The invitation should have been extended."

LG:(pause) "I see. So, only 352 left?"

HP:"That's right."

LG:"Will those eliminated for lack of an invitation find out before this article is printed tomorrow?"

HP:"Yes, they should receive a postcard tonight. I didn't think it would be right for them to learn about their elimination from your paper, no matter how helpful you've been."

LG:"Thank you. I agree."

HP:"So, next question?"

LG:"Well, 352 is still a lot of suitors left. Besides the upcoming dates, do you have any plans for making additional eliminations?"

HP:"There is one thing, though I don't expect it will have a large impact."

LG:"Will you tell us? Or does it need to remain hidden for now like your other tests?"

HP:"No, I'll tell you. And don't worry; I've taken the responsibility of informing the passing suitors. They will all be getting an information packet tonight with instructions on what they need to do. Every suitor must get their virility and fertility certified and send me official verification by January 5th."

LG:"What happens if they don't?"

HP:"They get eliminated. I've said I want children and my mate must be able to provide them. Hence, official certification. Certain arrangements have been made so that the suitors can get me their certification in plenty of time, so there is no excuse to be late. But like I said, I don't expect it will have a big impact, if any at all, on my number of suitors remaining."

LG:"What about _your_ fertility?"

HP:"A copy of my official verification of fertility is in the packet that the suitors will get tonight. I thought it was only fair."

LG:"Indeed so. Is there anything you can tell us about the upcoming dates or any future tests you are planning?"

HP:"Half-day dates, either from 10 o'clock to 2 o'clock or 3 o'clock to 7 o'clock, will be scheduled with every suitor as their certifications arrive. And just so everyone knows, I'll not be handling that part. A third party has been hired to verify the documents received and send out postcards with the assigned times."

LG:"A first come, first served idea?"

HP:"First verified, first dated, yes."

LG:"Doesn't that give an unfair advantage to those whose assigned times are later since they'll have more time to plan? And it's going to take a long time to get through that many people if you're only seeing two a day."

HP:"It will take approximately until my birthday as I'll be dating only six days a week, sometimes five. I'll be taking each Sunday for myself and I refuse to give up any more Hogsmeade weekends. And while the later dates may have more time to plan something, that isn't the point of the dates. The point is to get a better feel for each other."

LG:"Magic-wise?"

HP:"That, and just to see how compatible we are on a personal level. We might have great magic compatibility but have completely divergent interests and, well…"

LG:"I understand. You'll get a chance to talk with each other in a more private setting to see if you might like each other well enough to actually marry. Or, mate, I suppose."

HP:"Yes, exactly."

LG:"And after your birthday? Aren't you cutting this a bit close? You have eighteen months at most, isn't that right?"

HP:"Yes. Yes, that is right. And, yes, it is very close. I have high hopes for the dates. For instance, given my increased magic sensitivity, I'm expecting to eliminate at least a third, maybe even up to half, of the remaining suitors."

LG:"That still leaves quite a number."

HP:"I know."

LG:"You have plans?"

HP:"Yes. I have plans…"


	16. Holidays

**Updated 5/20/2008 **- spelling error fixed

**Chapter 16 – Holidays**

Draco slowly woke to an annoying voice accompanied by a slight shaking. "G'way,' he mumbled.

"Get _up_, Draco," Pansy said impatiently. "I've got the paper."

"Don' care," Draco mumbled petulantly.

"Of course you do, dear," Pansy disagreed. "After all, you always do like to know when you're right."

Draco cracked open his eyes to see a disgustingly bright and cheerful, not to mention fully awake and completely dressed, annoying girl sitting on his bed. "Wha' 'bout?" he managed to get out semi-clearly. He figured this was an appropriately advanced accomplishment since he was only semi-awake.

"About Harry dismissing everyone who didn't invite him for the holidays," Pansy elaborated cheerfully. "It's right here in the paper."

Draco gave a passing thought to batting away the paper being shaken in his face but quickly dismissed it. Even half-awake that would be too undignified. Then Pansy's words finally processed and his eyes widened and he smiled. "Knew it."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Yes, of course you did. Now get up."

"Why?" More awake he might be now, but he still saw no reason to climb from his nice warm bed. "And don't you know how inappropriate it is for you to be in my bedroom when I'm undressed?"

"Because we have to go shopping," Pansy said innocently. "And you would never touch me."

Draco blinked. He wasn't fully awake yet, but he was quite awake enough to know that look. That look meant Pansy had done _something _he wasn't going to like. "We can go shopping later," he said suspiciously.

"We have to get an early start," Pansy insisted. "All the better to hide the appointment I made for you at 10 o'clock with Healer Monroe."

Draco blinked again and waited for his brain to decipher his friend's words. Finally, they did. "What!" he squawked. "You didn't!"

Pansy grinned unrepentantly. "I did. You might as well get the appointment over and done with as soon as possible so you don't stress over it. Plus, it'll be much easier to hide an hour absence on such a busy shopping day than later when you won't have as much of an excuse to get away from the manor."

"But…but…," Draco protested ineffectually. Damn, but he hated being woken with shocking news. He had planned on a completely lazy day – not one that required him to go shopping and keep appointments.

"Here. Read," Pansy said as she once again shook the paper in Draco's face.

Draco groaned and reluctantly sat up. He grabbed the paper with one hand while the other rubbed his face and smoothed back his hair. He gave a mighty yawn then set himself to the task of reading whatever it was that Pansy found so important.

Three hours later Draco was back in the hotel room they had rented for the day, red-faced and grumbling as he changed out of the same boring grey sweater and robes he had worn to Harry's first gathering. The glamour hiding both himself Pansy from discovery was also dropped.

"So how did it go?" Pansy asked, letting her curiosity free now that they were in a secure environment.

Draco looked up in shock at the question. "How did it go?" he squeaked out. "How can you ask that? I've never been so embarrassed in my life!"

"Why?" Pansy asked in confusion. "What exactly happened?'

"What happened? What _happened?_" Draco practically yelled. "I'll tell you what happened! I just had to _wank off_ in front of a woman that had to have been at least 100 years old she was so shriveled! _That's_ what _happened!"_

Pansy blinked in astonishment. "Really? _Why?_ I mean, couldn't they just do some tests…"

"_No,"_ Draco ground out, still blushing bright red. "They couldn't just _do some tests._ They could for fertility but _not _for virility… evidently just because you're _fertile_ doesn't mean you can get an _erection_ and just because you can get an _erection_ doesn't mean you can _ejaculate."_

"Oh. So you really had to…" Pansy made a vague motion with one hand.

"_Yes,"_ Draco hissed.

"Wow," Pansy said in surprise. "And right in front of the healer? Really?"

"She was behind a mirror," Draco admitted sharply, "But I sure knew she was _there."_

"Wow," Pansy said again, still surprised. She'd no idea what would be involved in testing for a male. Somehow she'd never truly realized that fertility and virility, or capacity and performance she supposed, weren't actually the same thing. "So were you successful?"

"What!" Draco screeched.

"Were you successful in, you know, doing that?" Pansy asked again.

"Of _course_ I was successful!" Draco exclaimed indignantly. "I'm _sixteen_! I'd have to be in seriously dire straits if I couldn't _get it up!_"

"Well, you could have been sterile," Pansy suggested logically.

"I'm not!" Draco denied angrily.

"Or maybe a low sperm count," Pansy continued.

"It's perfectly normal!" Draco protested

"Well, all right, then," Pansy said briskly. "Let's go to the owl office and mail your certification and then get some lunch."

"Lunch!" Draco exclaimed in astonishment. "How can you be thinking about _food_ right now?"

"Now, dear, calm down," Pansy said soothingly. "It's all over. You don't have to worry about it anymore. Come on, I'll treat you to some ice cream. Would you like that? Some nice chocolate ice cream with fudge sauce."

Draco glowered at his friend. "I'm just awash with your sympathy, here," he said sourly.

"With nuts," Pansy said placatingly. "I would never forget the ground walnuts."

"I can't _believe_ you," Draco growled angrily.

Pansy put her arm through Draco's and started pulling him out of the room. "Come on. Let's go have some ice cream. Chocolate fixes everything."

"At least we agree on _that,_" Draco muttered darkly.

--HPDM--

"You're welcome to have Madam Pomfrey do your certification, my boy," Albus offered. "She is quite…"

"No, sir," Charlie interrupted as he shook his head. "The certification has to be done by one of the healers on a list I was provided. I've already made an appointment for Friday. Thanks anyway."

"I see," Albus said in surprise.

"Do you have the list with you?" Alastor asked abruptly.

"Sure," Charlie said and dug it out of a robe pocket and passed it to his left. "There's nothing suspicious that I can see."

Moody perused the list once he received it, everyone watching him intently, then shook his head, made a copy, and sent the original back down the table. "You're right, it doesn't look suspicious. It is interesting, though."

"Why so, Alastor?" Albus asked.

"There're fifty-six different healers listed in forty-one different countries," Alastor said. "What does that tell you?"

"The home countries of his suitors, perhaps?" Albus suggested thoughtfully.

"That's my guess," Alastor said with a nod.

"Do you have Harry's fertility certificate as well?" Albus asked Charlie.

Charlie nodded and pulled out another paper from his robe and passed it down the table.

Alastor glanced at the official-looking paper before snorting in amusement and passing it to Albus. "The lad's bright. Or his chaperone is."

"Why do you say that?" Elphias asked as Albus sighed in disappointment.

"The certificate is signed by Healer Monroe," Alastor said with a chuckle. "The woman's integrity is unquestioned and her belief in confidentiality is completely unassailable. She can keep her mouth shut even under a triple dose of veritaserum. She'll never reveal anything about the lad, even if he gives her permission."

"So no leads from that direction," Kingsley said in annoyance. Despite the lack of orders from Dumbledore, he had nevertheless tried to find the Potter boy. He'd had no luck whatsoever all weekend.

"No," Alastor agreed. "Anything else interesting in that packet, lad?"

"There's the note that says I passed, he won't be coming to visit, and tells me what I need to do in order to continue in the courtship. There is also my pass to the healer to verify that I'm eligible for a rush appointment," he said, waving an ivory colored parchment and a bright blue half-sheet in succession. "I have to bring it on Friday." He passed the papers along.

"Nothing about the dates at all? About what is expected?" asked Elphias curiously.

"No, nothing," Charlie said as he shook his head. "I'm going to arrange a tour of the reserve. I think Harry will like that."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Albus said mildly. "Taking Harry out of the country increases the risk of him being attacked."

"Yes, well, it's a good thing I didn't listen to you before about what you didn't think was a good idea or we wouldn't even be having this conversation," Charlie said in annoyance. "I may have entered this courtship under duress but I'm staying in it of my own free will and I will arrange a date that _I _think is suitable."

"Charlie!" Molly exclaimed in shock at her son's words. "Apologize this instant!"

"No," Charlie said angrily then stood. "I know what you want, both from me and from Harry, but what you all seem to be forgetting is that both of us are people in our own right. We _both_ have the right to make our _own_ decisions. I'd like my papers back now."

The papers were silently returned to Charlie and the redhead took his leave amidst murmurs from the Order members regarding his attitude and a dejected sigh from Albus. Only Moody looked upon the scene with amusement and approval.

--HPDM--

Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody worked his way through the wards he'd set on the small six foot square cellar in his house. Once through – an effort of no less than half an hour given everything he'd layered upon this small space – he sat down on the single simple chair before the small round table that occupied the center two feet of the room. Upon the table lay his goal for the evening: a deceptively simple looking one foot square wooden box.

The bookshelf on the far wall – full of forbidden but useful books – was ignored in favor of the box. The various useful but also forbidden artifacts stored on a second shelf were also ignored in favor of the box. His personal journals were eschewed this night as well, although he did set on the table the folder of articles and other notes and observations he had collected so far about Harry Potter and his courtships. Another night he would take the time to bind them together. But tonight… It was only the contents of the box that were of importance tonight.

He opened the box and gazed for several minutes upon the crown it contained nestled upon a molded cushion of deep purple velvet. The crown seemed as if it would fit an average-sized head, but he was sure it would adjust its size whenever needed. The crown was much different in appearance now than when he had first acquired it.

When he'd first touched this crown it had shifted into what he could now admit was an amazing example of gaudy showmanship. It had shifted into what a five-year-old considered to be an ideal looking crown for a King of wizards, a King that had been missing for nearly 2,000 years. The shape of the crown had changed over the years, though, as every time he touched it the thing would shift yet again. The only permanent features were the metal – pure un-tarnishing silver – and the gems.

Now the crown appeared the epitome of what Alastor thought a crown should be for a warrior-king. It was a simple and practical one inch wide band adorned with the varying gems. The crown had kept this shape for the last fifteen years, only the order of the gems sometimes changing; an effect he thought was likely more cosmetic than truly practical.

He'd spent some time attempting to decipher the magic of the gems in the crown. There were twenty-four of them. Twelve impossibly perfect diamonds that held an impossible amount of power and twelve other colored gems of impossible beauty. He'd not been able to figure out, specifically, what the gems did. He did know that the diamonds channeled power to the colored stones and probably also to the wearer. The colored gems had eluded him completely, though he'd once researched their meaning.

There were two rubies – for power and courage –currently grouped together at the front of the crown. The two stones of jet – the best stone to help channel magic and protect against magical backlash and exhaustion – were currently to either side of the rubies. The two each of amethysts, emeralds, blue sapphires and topazes – for wisdom, hope, mental clarity, and confidence respectively – were grouped at the back behind all the diamonds.

He wondered, as he reached into the box, if the organization of the gems would change. He watched in understanding as the rubies exchanged places with the emeralds and the sapphires moved to either side of the jet. Yes, instilling hope would be a more important duty for the new King, when he came, than showing off his raw power and mental clarity would be an asset in the coming chaos. Magic ability – both spell effectiveness and stamina – would be a necessity and so it made sense to him that the jet remained where it was.

He held the crown a moment longer before replacing it in its box and staring at it contemplatively. He remembered well when he'd acquired the crown. Alastor snorted at himself. Who was he kidding? He had been _given_ the crown.

He'd been five and lost in the woods. Lost in woods he'd never been lost in before despite his young age. He'd been starting to panic when an old frail-looking woman in bright robes had appeared seemingly from behind a tree. He had presumed her to be a gypsy but now he wasn't so sure. He had many suspicions now as to how she had appeared and also her identity: the Lady of Avalon, Fate, a personification of magic itself perhaps. She could have been just a random gypsy seer, of course, but he very much doubted it.

"Thrice you will see Hell before the coming of the King," he murmured in memory. The woman had grabbed him and spoken in a voice so full of power that he had never forgotten her words. As he'd stood there with his little mouth hanging open in astonishment, the woman had released him and reached into her robes and pulled out the very box before him. It was yet another action he hadn't questioned at the time. Where had such a frail woman stowed such a bulky box?

She'd thrust the box into his chest and he'd had no choice but to grab onto it. "You shall crown the King," she'd said intensely. He'd tried to protest, to question, but hadn't been able to gather his wits. "You will know him the first time you see him and you shall be his closest advisor as a new age dawns."

"Fulfill your duties well," Alastor repeated her final words to him before she'd left as suddenly as she'd appeared. He'd been unable to follow her and had soon recognized where he was and headed home. He'd hidden the box under his bed, not even looking in it for another week. He'd never spoken of his encounter, or the crown, to anyone. Not ever. And he knew he never would, at least not until the new King arrived.

That event had changed his life. He'd instantly become hungry for knowledge of all types. Not just the esoteric or theoretical knowledge favored by the Ravenclaw house he'd eventually joined, but practical knowledge from all walks of life. If he was to be advisor to a King, he was determined to know as much as he could about everything.

He'd also studied magical and physical defense relentlessly and had become an auror once he'd graduated Hogwarts. Most people presumed that his paranoia came from his auror days, but they were wrong. He'd been told, when he was _five,_ that he would thrice see Hell and he'd decided quite young that he was damn well going to be prepared and ensure he made it through to serve his King. He hadn't quite made it in one piece, but he _had_ made it. So far. Constant vigilance.

He'd seen Hell twice now. Once during the war with Grindelwald and once during the first rise of Voldemort. And now another war was coming. He knew of the hopes that Albus placed upon the shoulders of Harry Potter to end the war quickly, perhaps before it even really got started. He didn't know why Albus had those hopes, but he _did _know that those hopes were in vain. There would be war. There would be Hell. Of this he was certain.

And somehow Harry Potter was involved.

When he'd first seen the boy, he'd felt a spark stir within himself. He'd taken a second, third, and fourth look at the boy but had come to the conclusion that the boy wasn't the prophesied King. The absolute certainty that he presumed he would feel upon first seeing his King had been absent when he looked at the boy. Still, he knew the boy would be important.

Now, with this Veela business, he thought that while Harry Potter wasn't the King, he would probably _bear_ the King. He would mate, leave Britain, and bear and raise his children safe from the upheaval that would overcome his birth country. And one of those children would be the new King, Alastor was certain. But that meant at least a couple of decades of Hell before the King would appear.

He closed the box and stood. He would be ready. He would fight alongside Albus for now, for he knew his place was here until his King came to him. He wasn't sure why he was so certain, but he knew that it was not his place to help raise his King. It was his place to be here and to know intimately the country that his King would one day rule.

It was his place to witness Hell one last time before the dawn of a new era.

--HPDM--

Harry finished his shower and stepped out sopping wet onto the small plush green rug that decorated the green marble floor of his bathroom. This was his third extended visit to his grandfather's home and it still made him smile when he stepped onto this rug.

When he'd first come here after fourth year and been given his suite of rooms, the throw rugs in the bathroom had been a deep chocolate brown to match the wood, towels, and other accessories. It had been two weeks before a casual comment had resulted in the hiring of an interior decorator. In very short order, Harry had _green_ rugs in his bathroom, brocade curtains instead of velvet both on his windows and his new canopy bed, different paintings and light fixtures, and different furniture.

Then the tailor had been brought in.

And so had started Harry's initiation into the lifestyle and mindset of the truly wealthy. Harry knew he had money, and suspected that there was more waiting for him from the Potter estate upon his majority, but his Veela family took rich to a whole new level. Still, he had to admit that all the shopping and spending he had done the summer he'd turned fifteen had been a lot of fun in addition to being educational.

Harry shook himself out of his ruminations and continued his traditional New Year's ablutions. For his birthday he liked to stay up late to celebrate the very first moment of the day but for New Year's he did something very different. He'd started his traditions when he was six and the Dursleys had taken up spending New Year's Eve and Day with Marge, leaving him blissfully alone in the house.

The first thing he did to celebrate was to go to bed early and wake up late. Then he took a very long, very thorough shower, making sure to double scrub every square inch of himself. While in the shower he also did an extra special thorough job of flossing and brushing his teeth. Once out of the shower and dry he rubbed lotion into his skin, tended his finger- and toe-nails, and did his best to tame his hair. The last was just as hopeless a cause this year as it had been every other.

When he was finished he put on his fluffiest bathrobe and left the bathroom; he was quite looking forward to ordering his breakfast in his room and lazing about all day. He stopped short when he saw his grandfather already in his room and seated at what used to be a small dining table but was now five times as large and covered with what could only be properly termed as a feast.

"Grandfather?" he questioned hesitantly.

"Good morning," Robert said affectionately. "I remembered what you told me about what you do for New Year's Day. After your, hmmm, purification rite, you scrounge as much food as you can safely get away with and eat in your room. Yes? Well, this year you've no need to _scrounge_." Robert waved a hand dramatically over the dozen dishes of food on the expanded table.

Harry grinned in delight and walked over to his grandfather and gave him a very enthusiastic and grateful hug. "You do realize that I've been at Hogwarts the last five years and haven't had to _scrounge, _right?"

Robert returned the hug and replied, "Perhaps, but neither have you been pampered. I'm sure you never had mango with raspberry sauce at Hogwarts."

Harry laughed and took his seat and eagerly looked over all the beautiful looking food just waiting to be eaten. "I'm sure I've never had mango with raspberry sauce anywhere."

"Well, now you will," Robert said and tapped one of the dishes containing bright orange chunks drizzled with a purplish sauce.

"Thank you," Harry said with a great deal of gratitude. "It means a lot to me that you support my silly quirks."

"Ah, Harry, this is not a silly quirk," Robert said with only a small bit of sadness. "This is a meaningful personal celebration and I am honored that you seem willing to let me share it with you."

Harry smiled and said, "I'm glad to share with you. So tell me about all this food. Do you even know what it all is?"

"Of course," Robert professed with mock offense. He started describing all the different dishes as his grandson laughed at him. He'd had the chef prepare a small amount of a wide variety of dishes and had also instructed that additional dishes were to be delivered every half hour. He was going to keep Harry eating all day if he could. His grandson had put on a decent amount of weight in the past nearly two and a half years since they had first met but he was still too skinny!

An hour of food and conversation later a servant delivered the day's personal mail along with another dish of what appeared to be some kind of cheese-covered thing. Harry was surprised when his grandfather handed him several pieces from the mail stack. One of the head valets was supposed to be taking care of his mail while he was here.

"They are probably from your friends," Robert said encouragingly. "Perhaps thank you notes for your presents."

Harry's eyes widened in realization. "Oh. Right. I guess I just didn't expect anything until I got back to Hogwarts." He flipped through the stack quickly and saw that the letters were indeed from all the people to whom he'd sent presents. "Funny that they all arrived on the same day," Harry said.

"Henri may have held them for you until they had all arrived," Robert suggested. "He knows you don't want to deal with much mail while you are here."

Harry nodded his understanding and opened the letter from Hermione and read through it. He smiled as he summarized the letter for his grandfather. "She says she scared her parents she squealed so loudly. And she must thank me a dozen different times. She's so excited she didn't mention studying even once!" Harry laughed at his friend's enthusiasm and reached curiously for one of the new cheese-covered things.

"Ah, your scholar friend," Robert said with a smile as he set aside his own letter. "You've told me of how she's been reading your book with you and how much she wanted her own. Did you truly expect a different response?"

Harry finished chewing and swallowing his bite of the surprisingly good but still undefined cheesy thing and said, "I thought she might scold me for giving away some of my courting gifts as Christmas presents."

"You did purchase some of the tomes you sent her," Robert reminded him.

"I know. And I did tell her that. That I filled out the set for her," Harry said as he fiddled with the reminder of his food bit. "I still thought she might get upset. I'm glad she didn't."

"As am I," Robert said then lifted the letter he had just finished himself. "And on that same topic, the head librarian of The Royal Public Library thanks you for your donation."

Harry frowned. "Why would he be thanking me? You're the one that sent the books," he said and popped the rest of his appetizer into his mouth.

Robert chuckled ruefully. "Louis has been my friend for many years and is far from being a fool. Remember that your courtships are of great interest to the Veela nation, although the coverage in our paper is much more dignified than Britain's gossiping media. It was a small matter for him to see the similarity in the titles and subjects of the books he received and the reports about your interests. Add in the fact that it was I that delivered the books…"

Harry bit his lip. "So he figured out you were my chaperone. Do you think anyone else has figured it out?"

"No, I do not think so," Robert said confidently. "No one else would have such clues. And Louis was even more perceptive. As I said, we have been friends many years. He knows I would not chaperone just anyone, not even the famous Boy-Who-Lived, without very good reason. He offers his congratulations and condolences on my daughter, his congratulations on my grandson, and his best wishes for a felicitous mating."

"But…" Harry said in surprise then stopped. There really wasn't anything to say to that.

"And then he asks that I pass along his gratitude for the donation," Robert added with an amused half-smile. "He'd have thanked you himself but wasn't sure it would be appropriate, since you were keeping your lineage secret."

"Uh, well, tell him he's welcome, I guess," Harry said haltingly, somewhat bewildered over how to handle the situation.

"I will," Robert said. "And who else wrote to you?"

Harry startled at the question and said, "Oh, uh, Fred and George, Ginny, Neville, Lavender."

"Why don't you read your letters while I respond to Louis?" Robert suggested gently.

Harry nodded and did just that. He smiled at Lavender's gushing thanks for the jewelry box he'd sent her since she'd so admired the one he'd received. The jewelry box was one of the few gifts he'd actually specially purchased this year. He grinned at Neville's letter, which was just as excessively and uncharacteristically enthusiastic as Hermione's. He'd sent Neville the first set of duplicate music marbles that he'd received over the past four months – a total of nearly 100 – as well as a PeMM Player, or personal mobile marble player. He laughed outright at the thank you notes – and reports of Ron jealousy – from Fred, George, and Ginny. He'd sent them the second (62), third (62), and forth (47) duplicate marble sets respectively, as well as PeMM Players.

"You've received good responses, then?" Robert asked. "No scolding?"

Harry shook his head, still smiling over the amusing letters he'd just read. "No. Neville said that the PeMM was perfect for working in his greenhouse and said to feel free to unload duplicate marbles and marble playing devices anytime I want. He said he didn't care at all that I was passing along some duplicate gifts."

"Good, very good," Robert said with a nod and picked up his tea.

"The twins said thanks for sending them both their own sets; that it's nice to get individual Christmas presents instead of one they have to share. Not that they mind sharing, just that it was nice to also be seen as individuals," Harry said then giggled. "They say they kiss my toes for such a _princely_ gift, but only because they're princely _Veela_ toes." Harry's giggle turned into a full laugh.

Robert looked taken aback for a moment before he also laughed. "Is that so?" he asked in amusement.

Harry nodded, still giggling, and added, "Ginny also says thank you very much but has no plans to kiss my toes, princely Veela ones or not."

Robert smiled widely. "Perhaps that's best."

Harry merely giggled in response and picked up another cheesy-bit.

"I thought we might expand the table a bit more and finish loading your Vortex," Robert said. He knew his grandson didn't want to work today, as per his traditions, but he also knew from the past few days that Harry found quite a lot of fun and satisfaction in loading the device with his music marbles.

"That thing is so brilliant!" Harry said brightly. "I can't believe nobody thought to send one before. I have to send a really nice thank you note to Eric."

"They're not yet available to the general market," Robert said. "Only to commercial establishments."

"Really?" Harry asked in interest as he rose from the table to fetch the Vortex. "Where did you learn that?"

"From the shop proprietor Monday evening," Robert answered. "I spoke with him about it while you were looking through the store."

"Wow," Harry said in surprise. "I wonder why not. It's amazing."

"Not many people have the two thousand marbles needed to fill the device to capacity," Robert said with a chuckle. "The smaller one or two hundred capacity Tornadoes are more applicable to the everyday needs of most people."

"Do Tornadoes work the same way as a Vortex?" Harry asked as he picked up the device from his beside table. "You know, storing the marbles in a vortex pathway and playing whichever one's on the bottom? The name certainly implies it."

"Yes, they do," Robert answered as he expanded the table so his grandson could set down his player.

Harry deposited the contraption then left to fetch his music marbles. "The only ones I have left to add are the ones I exchanged on Monday," he said. "I can't believe I had forty-three copies of the Weird Sisters Greatest Hits."

Robert chuckled at his grandson's expression of disgust. He knew Harry was pleased, overall, to have a music collection even if he was displeased with the individual gift-givers lack of creativity. "That is still over a hundred marbles, correct?"

"Yes," Harry nodded as he approached with four bulging bags. "I'm still surprised at how many duplicates I got, especially now that I've been to a music store. I mean, there're thousands of titles and out of 1,500 marbles I still had almost 400 duplicates?"

"Will you leave all the marbles here?" Robert asked. "I know you plan to leave the Vortex here but you still have a PeMM, yes? You could take the marbles back to school with you."

"Everything I've gotten so far I'm leaving here," Harry said with a shake of his head. "I'm _still _getting marbles, if you can believe it. I'll take one of the PeMMs with me and use it if I want to listen to anything."

"What will you do with your remaining PeMMs?" Robert asked curiously.

Harry laughed. "I don't know. You want one? I gave those suitors positive marks – they _were_ good gifts – but I hardly need a dozen of them."

"No, thank you," Robert declined. "I've no need of one."

"Well, shall we start with The Kneazles?" Harry asked as he held out an unopened marble package to his grandfather.

Robert exchanged the package with a bit of food – what Harry was now calling in his mind a cheesy-pouf – and said, "But of course."


	17. January & Draco

**Updated 5/20/2008 **- spelling error fixed

**Updated 5/15/2008 - **missing word added**  
**

**Updated 5/14/2008 **- Cookies to Channah for correcting my spelling on the German Chocolate Frogs!

A/N: Wow! So many reviews for 15 & 16. I haven't gotten to them all yet, though I have noticed that some of you are very clever... As for Moody and the prophecy - you'll have to wait a bit...

**Chapter 17 – January & Draco**

_The Quibbler, Special Addition to January Edition,_ Monday, January 13, 1997

_**Current Count of Suitors: 338**_

_Excerpt from __An Introduction to Veela__, Chapter 9 - A Brief History: International_

--January 6--

"What did you get?" Dean asked eagerly as he held the weekly pool sheet.

Harry smothered his chuckle as everyone looked at him desperately. It hadn't been since the end of November that anyone had won the pool and the last he'd heard the pot had reached a total of nearly two galleons. "A book and some chocolate," he replied.

"Yes!" Neville cried while everyone else groaned.

"Only one person bet on books or candy?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"We stopped doing that early on since he seemed so intent on dressing you," Hermione said wryly. "What's the title of the book? And what kind of chocolate?"

"That's my Hermione," Harry laughed. "More interested in a book than in chocolates."

Hermione huffed in pretend irritation. "Well?"

Harry smirked unrepentantly and replied, "The book is actually blank. It's a collector's edition binder specially designed to hold an entire set of cards from chocolate frogs or, in this case, Schokoladenfrösche, since evidently Germany has the best chocolate frogs."

"You completely mangled that pronunciation, Harry," Hermione said with a wince.

Harry shrugged and opened one of his treats. "And, no, I'm not sharing," he said and popped the squirming chocolate into his mouth. Neville chuckled as he counted his coins while some of the others around him clucked in disappointment.

Hermione opened her mouth to let loose a smart comment about not wanting any anyway but then closed her mouth sharply and said instead, "I understand."

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise as he continued to chew his treat. Well, it seemed Hermione had ordered the second, more advanced, book about Veelas from the Veela Council. Although, _why _that shocked him he had no idea. He really should have expected it.

"Do you have enough candy with you?" Hermione asked worriedly. "I know…" She trailed off as Harry raised a hand with a slightly alarmed look on his face. Her eyes widened in understanding a moment later as she realized that this must be one of Harry's current tests. "Sorry," she apologized softly.

Harry shook his head and smiled at his friend. "That's all right. Thanks for worrying about me but I'll be fine." A submissive Veela required more and more calories per day the longer they went without mating – something to do with the gestalt of the metabolism in the biological drive to mate. The best way to get those calories was actually through pure sugar as it _was _only calories, and not nutrients, that were needed. He wouldn't actually start _needing_ the extra calories until February – which was when he would enter Désespoir – but he had no objection to starting early. He pulled out another chocolate frog.

"You're…you know…," Hermione tried to ask without asking and waved a hand in agitation.

"Yes," Harry confirmed. He was indeed, as Hermione had evidently surmised, paying attention to just which of his remaining suitors addressed his physical needs by sending candy, although he wouldn't eliminate them _just_ for not sending him sweets. Of course, he had several tests prepared for the dates, as well. He contentedly chewed on his second frog.

"How many did he send?" Hermione asked curiously.

"A box," Harry answered as he swallowed the last of the chocolate.

"A box?" Hermione asked blankly. "As in fifty?"

Harry nodded and pulled out another frog. "And he says he'll send another next week."

"And you're going to eat them _all_?" Hermione asked in shocked disbelief as she watched Harry open a third package.

"_Absolutely,_" Harry said and bit off the frog's head.

--Michael - January 9--

"This is a fantastic view," Harry said to Michael, his half-Veela date for the evening, as he watched the boats on the river.

"I'm glad you like it," Michael said with a pleased smile. "I thought it would be nice to simply sit and talk for our time together, and eat of course."

Harry smiled back. "It is nice. What do you do for a living? And how do you feel about me not pursuing a career myself until my children are grown?"

"I'm pleased to know you wish to be a full-time parent," Michael answered easily as he poured tea for them both. "That is my preference, as well. As for my occupation, I am a traveling distributor for the rare potions ingredients harvested by my family. I spend a great deal of time traveling around the world."

"Really?" Harry asked, intrigued. This was a good answer in regards to his own desire to travel the world. However, he didn't want to _always_ be traveling. "Do you have a home base, so to speak?"

"Yes, in fact…"

--Alberto - January 11--

"Watch your step," Alberto cautioned as he led them along the wet and uneven stones that surrounded the magnificent fountain they were approaching.

Harry stepped carefully as he approached the fountain's edge then knelt and ran a hand through the water. "So you feel that Italy should help Britain in the coming war by sending fighters?"

"Most definitely," Alberto said with a firm nod. "The best way to keep the problem from spreading to the continent is to stop it at its source."

"And you would help fight?" Harry asked curiously.

"If my regiment was sent to help, of course," Alberto said stiffly.

Right. Bad answer. He wanted nothing to do with a mate who would willfully risk his life, especially for a civil war that should be of no concern to him.

--Franz - January 13--

"Do you have any interest in traveling?" Harry asked politely as he picked up his fork.

"It would be interesting," Franz said, flourishing his knife. "My country has many interesting sites we could visit on weekends. We could even go out of the country on my yearly vacation, perhaps to France."

Harry smiled insincerely. Wow, what variety. One more suitor down.

--Alexander - January 14--

"So you feel that the best way to deal with the centaurs is to create a reserve?" Harry asked, resolutely keeping his tone lightly curious.

"Of course," Alexander replied, completely missing the flash of disgust in his date's eyes. "They are completely incapable of interacting with humans on a reasonable level. The only way…"

Harry stopped listening to the man and mentally crossed him off the suitor list.

--Gustaf - January 17--

"I love to travel!" Gustaf said enthusiastically. "I spend as much time as I can out and about. And I have top of the line equipment!"

"Equipment?" Harry asked blankly.

"Of course," Gustaf said. "I enjoy civilization very much, but some of the most wondrous sites are nature's own artistry and can only be reached by walking. I have the best camping equipment money can buy!"

Harry blinked in bemusement. "What about portkeys?"

Gustaf looked horrified. "You cannot appreciate a site if you arrive by _portkey."_

"No?" Harry asked curiously. He'd never thought about including _camping_ in his world travels. What an intriguing possibility…

--Aiden - January 20--

"You could build us as big a house as you wanted," Aiden said then added eagerly, "I could have a home gallery! With you by my side I could finally get the recognition I deserve." Aiden led them to his next work of art.

"Perhaps so," Harry said and checked another suitor off the list. The art was actually decent but the man left much to be desired. He might be independently wealthy but that didn't mean he wanted a narcissistic leech for a mate.

--Joshua - January 22--

"Britain needs to take care of its own problems," Joshua said with a bit of exasperation. "If they weren't so pig-headed about their muggle-born policies, they probably wouldn't even be in their current situation."

"So you want to stay away from the war?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Joshua said and looked Harry in the eyes. "I'm sorry if that bothers you."

Harry smiled. "It doesn't bother me."

--Draco - January 25--

"You look fine, darling," Chloe Malfoy said to her great-grandson for the fourth time that morning.

"I'm just nervous," Draco admitted reluctantly.

Pansy snorted in amusement. "And where has all your I-know-I-can-make-a-good-impression confidence gone?"

"Pansy," Draco nearly whined.

"You keep telling me that you know what he likes," Pansy said relentlessly.

"I do!" Draco protested.

"Then stop your primping," Pansy said unsympathetically. "Your glamour and voice alteration is perfect, though why he's letting you use them is beyond me."

"It was his suggestion," Draco said in irritation. "I told you that. He even promised not to attempt to look through the glamour."

"As if you wouldn't have asked anyway," Pansy said with just as much irritation.

Draco scowled, completely unable to deny the accusation.

"Don't scowl, darling," Chloe chided. "You want to look your best."

"You're sure nobody suspects anything about the family summons?" Draco asked apprehensively.

"Yes, darling, I'm sure," Chloe re-assured for probably the _fifth _time that morning. "I had your great-grandfather send a family-wide summons for varying days. Nobody should suspect anything. Now, do you have the portkey?"

"Yes, ma'am," Draco said, patting his robe pocket.

"And your gift?" Chloe asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Draco replied again with another pat.

"Then you had best get going," Chloe said firmly. "You need to be there in five minutes. Pansy and I will amuse ourselves until you return."

"Five minutes!" Draco cried and nearly ran to the door.

"Decorum, young man!" Chloe called sharply, stopping Draco in his tracks. "The room you need to go to is merely two doors down. Surely it will not take you that long to walk there like a proper gentleman."

"Yes, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am," Draco said as he stopped and took several deep breaths. He quickly regained his equilibrium, nodded to his friend and great-grandmother, picked up his cloak, and left the room. As he'd been admonished, it took only moments for him to arrive at his destination, even walking like a proper gentleman. He knocked politely on the door.

The door was opened and Draco was ushered into the room by a guard he recognized from several pictures in _The Daily Prophet._ "Please put all magical items on the table," the guard said, indicating a small table off to the side of the sitting room he'd just entered.

Draco did as bid and watched as the second guard verified the destination of the portkey and examined his wand, gift, and cloak. He remained in place as the guard then scanned him for additional magic. "I'm wearing a glamour," he supplied. "I have authorization."

"Yes, sir," guard two said. "I was told, but thank you for informing me."

Draco nodded and stood patiently as the guard continued his inspection. Several minutes later all the tests were passed and guard one knocked on, and then disappeared through, the door that led from the receiving room of the hotel suite to the common area. He knew where the door led because he'd been to _The Rose Inn _often enough to know that the suites were all arranged similarly. Harry and his chaperone arrived moments later.

Draco smiled at his date. Harry was wearing a heavy wool robe in deep green that was decorated with black piping and stitching. It was a nice robe, but still an appropriate choice for the "outdoor casual" suggestion Draco had made when he confirmed the meeting time. And he was carrying the cloak Draco had given him. "You look very nice. The green suits you well."

Harry returned the smile. "Thank you."

"I have something for you," Draco said and picked up the book he'd left on the table to be inspected.

"Does this mean I'll miss Nichol on Monday?" Harry teased lightly as he accepted the book, deliberately touching Draco's hand to feel his magic, and examined the cover.

Draco chuckled. "No. I think she would be upset if I did such a thing and I certainly don't want that. This is merely a souvenir to remember today."

"A souvenir?" Harry questioned then grinned. "Is this where we're going?"

"Yes," Draco said. "I thought perhaps, living with muggles growing up, that you had likely never been to a magical zoo and that you might like the chance to see one. Was I mistaken?"

Harry's grin widened. "No! This is wonderful! I did go to a muggle zoo once but I didn't really get to enjoy it. And I've never been to magical zoo."

"I'm glad to share with you, then," Draco said, pleased at Harry's response.

"Do you mind if I leave this here?" Harry asked, lifting the book about the zoo that Draco had given him.

"Of course not," Draco said reassuringly.

Harry left the room to put away his new book and Draco eyed the chaperone curiously. The man's identity was one of the great mysteries favored by the gossip columns. Draco nodded respectfully towards the man and wondered if his identity would ever be revealed.

Harry returned to the room and said, "Shall we?"

"Certainly," Draco said and intercepted Harry's reach for his cloak. "Please allow me."

Harry smiled and allowed Draco to help him into his cloak. Once Harry was cloaked, Draco returned to the table and replaced his wand, donned his own cloak, and picked up the portkey. He held it out and watched as the chaperone and guards placed their hands upon it first and only then did Harry reach for the large metal ring. He smiled and said clearly, "Chadwick Zoo."

"Damn it," Harry muttered angrily from the ground moments later.

Draco reached down a hand. "Let me help you up."

"I hate portkeys," Harry complained in frustration as he accepted the help to his feet.

"Next time try standing with your feet shoulder-width apart and about a foot apart front to back. Like this," Draco said and demonstrated the suggested stance. "It also helps if you bend your knees slightly."

Harry examined the proffered stance in interest. "This helps?" he asked curiously.

"It helps me," Draco admitted. "I don't care for portkeys much either. I've not fallen often since I started using this stance."

Harry nodded. "I'll try it," he said eagerly. "Anything to help."

Draco chuckled and offered his arm. "Come, let's leave the receiving area. We can pick up a map on our way out. Is there any place in particular where you would like to start?"

Harry finally took a look around his current location. They were in a large open room full of circles painted on the floor. As he watched, several more groups arrived in a circle only to quickly leave towards one of several sets of double doors in all four of the walls. "Do you know where the snakes are?" he asked curiously.

Draco glanced around quickly then nodded towards one wall. "That way," he said. "Do you see the picture of the snake above the doors?"

Harry looked towards the indicated wall and did indeed see the stylized snake, amongst other drawings. "Clever," he said.

"Yes," Draco agreed and offered his arm again.

"What's your favorite section?" Harry asked as he took the proffered arm and they started walking towards the appropriate exits.

Draco glanced down at Harry and considered his response. Other than continuing to conceal his true identity, he had decided not to lie during this meeting and to be as complete in his responses as possible, but should he reveal this particular secret? He had thought the subject might come up – they were visiting a zoo, after all – but as of this morning he still hadn't decided whether or not to share his ability. He decided he would; it would be interesting to see Harry's response. "The aviary is my favorite section," he said slowly. "I can speak to songbirds, you see."

Harry stopped abruptly and looked up with wide eyes. "You can?" he asked in astonishment.

Draco nodded slowly. "Yes," he said seriously. "It's actually a common trait in wizards to be able to speak to a particular group of animals."

"It is?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"Yes," Draco answered and urged Harry to start walking again. "It's generally an indication of what type of familiar the wizard can bond to."

"Really?" Harry asked, still astonished. "Why have I never heard of this?"

Draco snorted and said bitterly, "Oh, because bonding a familiar is a trait of _dark_ wizards so, of course, being able to speak to an animal is also a trait of dark wizards. The very powerful, like you, tend to develop their particular animal-speaking ability spontaneously upon their first true interaction, intentional or not, with the target animal group."

"The boa," Harry murmured in sudden understanding.

Draco raised a curious eyebrow but did not pursue the comment. "The average wizard has to purposely discover their ability through a series of intentional interactions with animals from various species groups."

"But they don't because it's a dark gift," Harry concluded.

"Partially," Draco agreed as they neared the exit. "Mostly, however, it's because they don't even know that they can. Like all supposedly _dark _arts, the knowledge that it's possible to bring forth an animal-speaking ability, as well as how to do it and how common it is, has been suppressed by the Ministry. Probably eighty percent of British wizards and witches _could_ speak to an animal group if they were taught how to develop their ability."

"So the fact that I can speak to snakes…?" Harry asked in fascination.

"Simply means that should you choose to bond to a familiar, that that familiar will be a snake," Draco replied as he led them towards the map stand. He picked up a map and handed it to Harry then picked up another for himself as a souvenir and placed it in his robe.

Harry was quiet for several minutes as Draco led them towards the reptile house. Did Voldemort really give him his parseltongue ability? Or was he always just destined for a snake familiar? Or had Voldemort's curse changed his familiar, and its accompanying language, to snakes from something else? He'd probably never know. It wasn't until the group entered the new building that Harry said, "That's very interesting. I never knew that."

"As I said, it's not commonly known in Britain," Draco said. "It's not as bad in mainland Europe."

Harry snorted. "Yet another reason to detest the Ministry," he said in annoyance.

Draco chuckled. "True," he said then asked curiously, "So what are they saying? Anything interesting? Or is it all about when is their next mouse?"

Harry laughed lightly and spoke briefly with the nearest snake. He kept an eye on Draco as he did; the response of his suitors to his parseltongue ability was one of his tests during these dates. Any suitor that responded negatively was going to be eliminated. He was not going to suppress any of his abilities due to someone's prejudicial beliefs. In fact, he'd already eliminated four suitors for this very reason.

Draco appeared honestly fascinated. One test down, four to go. "Snakes are actually fascinating conversationalists," Harry said. "They love to gossip."

Draco laughed. "How amusing," he said. "Does this one have any good stories?"

"He says not much has happened yet today. We are his first guests," Harry replied with a smile.

"Well, will you tell him hello for me?" Draco asked.

Harry laughed again and did as asked. "He wishes you luck," Harry translated back.

Draco smiled and nodded towards the snake in thanks.

"How do you feel about the rights of magical beings?" Harry asked suddenly as he pulled Draco towards the next enclosure.

Draco stared at Harry uncomprehendingly for a moment, completely caught off guard by the question given their prior topic of conversation. He shook his head and smiled as he answered in amusement, "I believe they should have equal rights with wizards. I'd be an awful big hypocrite if I didn't think that, now wouldn't I? I am half-Veela just as you are yourself."

"Maybe you would be," Harry agreed as he read the information on the rainbow river snake. "Or maybe you simply feel that all other races are inferior to yours."

Draco raised an eyebrow and nodded his acknowledgment of that point. "True enough. But, no, I don't feel other races are inferior to me. I do feel that certain races are incompatible."

Harry looked up and noted Draco's sincerity. "Like what?" he asked curiously.

Draco smirked and said, "Mer-people and centaurs, for example. They may be on friendly terms but I'm afraid I can't really see the two of them having children together."

Harry laughed and said, "That's true."

"I also feel that goblins are fairly incompatible with just about every other species," Draco said.

Harry frowned and asked, "Why would you say that?" He pulled Draco to the next enclosure. Black bog snake, non-venomous.

"They are very, very strict and violent," Draco answered. "Not to mention, how shall I put this, intolerant in the extreme."

Harry cocked his head and gave Draco his full attention. "Will you explain?"

"Of course," Draco said, glad to see that Harry wasn't dismissing his words out of hand. "Goblins have very demanding childrearing practices. There are certain things that a goblin child is required to learn at each year of life and they are tested on every birthday. Failing the test is usually fatal. Only half of all goblin children make it to adulthood."

Harry looked taken aback and said quietly, "I had no idea."

Draco nodded solemnly. "Most wizards don't, as cross-cultural awareness isn't commonly taught," he said. "So you can see why there are so few goblin hybrids. No other society is inclined to allow their children to be treated so harshly."

"Do they test the females as strictly as the males?" Harry asked curiously.

"Yes," Draco answered with a wry smirk. "In that they are very nondiscriminatory."

"I guess that's a point in their favor," Harry said with a short laugh.

"Goblins also don't believe in medical assistance," Draco continued. "Diseases must be fought off without assistance. If one receives an injury which would result in a permanent disability, the victim is simply killed."

"Merlin," Harry said in horror. "I had no idea they were so harsh."

"They are. They're also very aggressive and socially intolerant," Draco said. "Anybody who speaks or works against the established hierarchy is eliminated. A goblin either follows the rules set down or they are killed. They're not like wizard, or Veelas, or any number of other races where different viewpoints are tolerated or even encouraged. As you can imagine, this outlook makes social relations with other races rather difficult."

"That's very interesting," Harry said in surprise. He'd never realized until just now how little he actually knew about the other sentient races. Maybe he should actually read one of those books he'd received about magical being rights. "Are other races like that?"

"There are no other races quite so harsh as the goblins," Draco replied, "though there are other things that make certain races incompatible. For instance, magic herself decreed that werewolves and vampires would be enemies. A werewolf and vampire could be the best of penpals, but the moment they met each other… Well, a rather nasty fight would ensue. That's just the nature of their magic and there is no sense in trying to fight a losing battle."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. It wasn't the answer he had been looking for, and not one he had received to date, but it was reasonable and based on facts instead of blind prejudice. "I read about that in Defense. What about muggle-borns?"

This time it was Draco that pulled them to the next display. He was silent as they both read the description of the flying tree snake. He'd figured this question would come up and had prepared his answer but he didn't want to sound rehearsed. Eventually, he looked down at his date and saw Harry looking at him expectantly. He kept eye contact so that Harry would know he wasn't lying and replied, "Personally, I've not met many that I liked. However, that doesn't mean I agree with the current Dark Lord's agenda that they should all be summarily eliminated."

Harry uttered a noncommittal sound and led them to the next enclosure. He stared at the lizards there, not bothering to read the description this time, and asked, "Why don't you like them?"

Draco knew that his answer to this question could get him summarily dismissed. Nevertheless, he relayed his feelings honestly. "Muggle-borns come into the wizarding world and almost immediately start insulting the wizards' way of life. They insult how wizards dress, how we travel, and even what goods and services are and aren't available. And _then_ the muggle-borns have the audacity to get insulted themselves when it's pointed out to them how rude they are being and get offended when the wizard-raised don't want to include them. They insult our culture and our heritage and call us backward and stagnant and lazy, but woe betide any wizard that calls a muggle backwards for how they treat women, or stagnant for worshiping their Christian God according to two thousand year old rules, or lazy for not learning how to work _with_ their environment instead of simply trying to conquer it. Wizards are just _prejudiced_, of course, it's not that muggle-borns are refusing to adapt to the culture they've been invited into. Tell me, Harry, how much would you want to include someone in your life if they insulted you every other sentence?"

Harry gazed at Draco solemnly but didn't answer.

It wasn't a negative response, so Draco continued. "I don't believe that muggle-borns should all be hunted down and killed," he said strongly. "However, I also don't agree that they should be brought into the wizarding world and sent to a wizarding school with only a month or two of warning and absolutely no knowledge of wizarding culture. Plus, there are things that a child raised in a magical environment simply picks up over a period of eleven years of life that a muggle-born simply doesn't know. Because of this, the first-year classes at Hogwarts cover a lot of basics. This is great for the muggle-borns, but the wizard-raised children learned these things when they were five. It causes a lot of resentment in the wizard-raised children that their education is being compromised by the muggle-borns."

"The current situation is truly horrible. Only one muggle-born out of twenty stays in the wizarding world. The rest simply return to their muggle origins. Here we are inviting these people into our world, teaching them at the cost of our own children's education, and for what? Nothing. They just go right back out into the muggle world. Why invite them in at all?"

Harry stared at Draco silently. This was another question with a valid, yet still unexpected, answer.

Draco looked off to the side and said, "I apologize if I've offended you, but I'm afraid that that is what I believe."

"And what would you do if you were in charge?" Harry asked softly.

Draco looked back at Harry in surprise. He'd waxed a bit more passionate that he'd intended and had been certain that he'd just blown his suit completely out of the sky. He was definitely shocked to be given more of a chance to explain his beliefs. "I would have the parents contacted at birth and have the child raised bicultural at the very least," he said quietly. "Most of the problems lie in the fact that the muggle-borns are simply dumped into an almost entirely foreign situation with no education and no support."

Neither boy said anything for several long moments. Finally, Harry tugged Draco over to the purple-crested river lizard and said, "Tell me more."

So Draco and Harry walked around the reptile house and then the aviary – where Harry got the opportunity to listen to Draco talk to some birds – while Draco expounded on his theories of early intervention and how the wizarding world could get the benefit of the muggle world with much less risk than currently.

Conversation vacillated between serious and light as they explored additional parts of the zoo and ate lunch at a small café. Eventually, the allotted time was nearly over and they returned to the receiving room where the chaperone pulled out a return portkey that deposited them in the reception area of The Rose Inn.

Draco escorted Harry back to his suite and thanked him for a wonderful morning/early afternoon.

Harry leaned up and kissed Draco on the cheek and said, "Thank _you_. I had a wonderful time." He then left through the connecting door without a backward glance.

Draco touched his cheek and gave a silly smile and completely ignored the amused smirks of the guards.


	18. February & Désespoir

A/N: (grin) I wish I was a fast writer but, no, I've got the story mostly written. The very last chapter is giving me major fits - I've been agonizing over it for days now - but I'm desperate to get it finished before its day has come so you don't have to wait on me. I'm also trying to include different ideas from some of you, including answering some questions that have popped up - but I'm having issues with that, too. All the reviews are amazing! I'm afraid I'm behind on reading them, but I do promise to get to them. **  
**

Those of you hoping for more Veela-ness should like this chapter...

**Chapter 18 – February & Désespoir **

_The Quibbler, Special Addition to February Edition,_ Monday, February 17, 1997

_**Current Count of Suitors: 290**_

_Excerpt from __An Introduction to Veela__, Chapter 10 - International Trade & Travel_

--February 2--

Harry woke to the sounds of his dorm-mates squabbling. Normally he ignored the inanity of their morning complaints, but today…he hissed. Loudly.

There were several moments of stunned silence. "All right. Everybody out," Neville said firmly.

"Why do we have to leave," Ron said angrily. "He's the one…Hey!...Let go!"

"Shut up, Ron," Seamus said urgently. "Neville's got a better handle on this situation than we do and he said to leave so we are _leaving_."

Harry listened to the retreating sounds of Ron's complaints and did his best to settle his temper.

Neville approached Harry's bed about five minutes after Harry started the standard breathing exercises. "Better?" he asked.

"Somewhat," Harry sighed out agitatedly. He sat up and put his head in his hands. "It's just my luck that Désespoir would start today. Damn it all! Today's Sunday! It's supposed to be my day off! I've been looking forward to it all week! Why couldn't it have waited one more day? Why did it have to ruin my day off?"

"I'm sorry your day's starting so badly," Neville said sympathetically. "Maybe it will seem better after breakfast. Are you up to getting something to eat?"

"No," Harry said petulantly. A few moments later he sighed and dropped his hands from his face and looked up. "Maybe I should tell Dean to start a pool about when I'm finally going to lose it. I mean, the regular pool _is_ defunct now," he said resignedly.

"That's because "D" keeps sending you the same thing," Neville said with an amused snort. "A box of chocolates and a book about Egyptian magic. It's no more fun. Here, I have something for you."

Harry looked up then held out his hand to accept whatever it was Neville was holding out to him. He inspected the small wrapped ball. "Hellert's Honey Humps?" he questioned in disbelief.

"Cecilia says that, in her opinion, they're the best morning snack to help settle Désespoir," Neville supplied.

"Cecilia?" Harry asked curiously while opening the brown and yellow candy wrapper.

"My cousin-in-law," Neville answered. "She said she used to eat four a morning during stage one and ten during stage two. I asked her to send some to me. I've got the box in my trunk."

Harry nodded and popped the honey treat in his mouth. "How many in a box?" he asked carefully around the hemisphere in his mouth.

"Five hundred," Neville said. "She bought the resellers box," he elaborated at Harry's shocked expression. "Do you like them?"

Harry nodded as he sucked on the candy then watched as Neville went over to his trunk. When Neville lifted out a large box, he pushed the candy into his cheek and said, "Don't. You keep them. You'll be more sensible in the morning than me so you'll remember to make me eat them. I'll probably be too irritable to remember."

"All right," Neville said with a nod and wiggled the box back into his trunk. He picked up three more candies from the box and brought them over to Harry.

"The best, huh?" Harry asked as he swallowed the last of the first treat and accepted the additional candies offered him.

"According to her," Neville said agreeably. "They're pure condensed honey; basically just a bunch of sugar."

Harry sighed and unwrapped a second candy. A sugar hit first thing _would_ help settle the symptoms of Désespoir.

"Your dates are going to take you all the way through to the start of stage three, aren't they?" Neville asked softly as he sat down on Harry's bed.

Harry winced but nodded and continued sucking on his candy.

The two boys sat silently for several minutes as Harry finished his allotment of candy. "You up for breakfast now?" Neville asked.

"Sure," Harry said resignedly. He stood and went about his morning routine then waited by the dorm-room door for Neville to finish dressing.

"We'll just go and eat and then we'll go to the library or something," Neville said reassuringly. "All right? Nothing too stressful today. Everything will be fine."

"Neville, you do realize you just jinxed me, right?" Harry said grimly.

Neville widened his eyes in alarm then winced. "Damn. I'm sorry."

Harry shook his head and sighed. "Don't worry about it. The day was already destined to suck. Just…will you stay with me today," Harry asked hesitantly.

"Sure. I'd be happy to," Neville said and placed his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Come on. Breakfast."

"Right," Harry said and squared his shoulders bravely. He just knew, though, that something else was bound to happen today.

--HPDM--

"I only asked for you, Mr. Potter," the Headmaster said mildly.

"I don't care," Harry said in irritation from the seat he had taken. "Either he stays and we talk or he goes and I fry your office. You pick." He looked away to watch Fawkes preen his feathers.

"I'm helping to keep him calm today," Neville offered the headmaster as he stood behind Harry with a hand on the shoulder of the agitated Veela submissive. "Today is the start of Désespoir for him."

"Désespoir?" the Headmaster asked in concern.

"You've known about my heritage for five bloody months and you haven't done your research?" Harry asked angrily, not bothering to even glance at the old man.

"I've read the _Veela Accords_ and the book _An Introduction to Veela_," the headmaster countered mildly. "I've also held several conversations with Olympe Maxime. I was merely concerned."

Harry snorted in contempt and Neville nodded. "So you haven't read the second book, then. All right. How much do you actually know about Désespoir? What did Madame Maxime tell you?" Neville asked calmly and squeezed Harry's shoulder briefly.

"Désespoir – or Desperation in English – is the agitation a submissive feels when they wait longer than six months to mate," the headmaster said. Olympe had told him briefly about Désespoir but nothing she had said had made him presume that there would be such a distinctly visible change in Harry's demeanor as he was currently seeing.

"Désespoir is the name given to the degenerative condition that afflicts submissive Veelas still looking for a mate past the six month mark," Neville said, clarifying the explanation.

The headmaster's eyes widened only slightly as he asked, "Degenerative?" Olympe Maxime hadn't said anything about _degenerative._

Harry sneered but kept silent when Neville again squeezed his shoulder. Neville could take care of educating the old man.

"Désespoir has four stages," Neville explained calmly. "Stage one starts at the seventh month, at which time the submissive becomes highly temperamental and needs an additional 1,000 calories of food intake per day to offset the increased metabolism caused by the Veela magic's increased drive to find a mate."

Dumbledore nodded encouragingly for the young man to continue his explanation.

"Stage two starts at the beginning of month ten, stage three at month thirteen and stage four, if they last that long, at month sixteen," Neville continued. "The agitation a submissive feels quadruples on the first day of Désespoir and increases steadily as time goes by. The extra calorie requirement also increases at a steady pace. A submissive's daily calorie requirements increase by 50 to 100 every week, depending upon their magical power. If they last so long, a submissive entering stage four could need an extra 3,600 calories per day. This is why submissive Veelas in Désespoir are always eating candy of some sort – it's a quick, condensed source of energy."

"I will speak with the house-elves about providing high-calorie dishes for Harry," Dumbledore said. It seems Olympe was so used to the special needs of the Veela in her school that she had neglected to mention certain pertinent facts. He would definitely have to read the second book young Neville mentioned.

"That's not necessary, but would certainly be appreciated," Neville responded politely. "Each stage is also marked by an increase in magical destabilization. Unlike the agitation – which grows steadily – the destabilization happens in a combination of a steady increase and a kind of abrupt stair-step fashion at the start of each phase. In fact, it's this abrupt destabilization that marks the beginning of Désespoir and the entry into each new stage. And it's this destabilization of magic that is what kills the submissive, although the risk of death doesn't start until stage two."

"I see," Dumbledore said gravely. "And for Harry that will start in May."

"Yes," Neville said and ignored Harry's wince at the reminder.

"How great is the risk of death?" Dumbledore asked grimly. He hadn't missed the fact that young Neville had twice mentioned _if _the submissive lasted. Bill Weasley had said that things got grim for a submissive Veela, but he hadn't looked into that comment at the time. Obviously, that had been a poor oversight.

"That…depends how you look at it," Neville said slowly. "The linear destabilization causes death at a rate of about one percent per week starting in the first week of stage two. A simple calculation will give you the death risk for that."

"So in the first week of May Harry will have a one percent chance of death?" Dumbledore asked gravely. "The second week will be a two percent chance, and so on?"

"Yes," Neville confirmed, equally grave. By the time Harry was finished with his individual dates around his birthday, he would have a thirteen percent chance of not waking up each morning. This was not something he liked to dwell on. "But that's just the risk from the gradual destabilization. Simply entering into stages two, three, and four have their own risks."

Dumbledore took a deep calming breath. This was not good news. "Please explain, Mr. Longbottom."

Neville shifted uncomfortably. If the headmaster was upset over the previous risk percentages, he was definitely going to be unhappy about the entry risks. "As I said, the entry into each stage is marked by an abrupt destabilization in the submissive's magic. The entry into stages two, three, and four kills ten, twenty, and forty percent respectively."

"I see," Dumbledore said, shocked at the horrible risks enumerated by his student.

"But the overall death rate is only five or six percent," Neville offered somewhat desperately. "Most submissives mate before the start of stage two."

But Dumbledore had done his calculations as well and knew that Harry wouldn't be part of that vague "most" just mentioned. All available evidence pointed to Harry entering not only stage two in May but also stage three in August. "How many enter stage two and how many of those die before stage three?" he asked with forced calm.

"I'm…not sure of those numbers," Neville admitted reluctantly.

"Twenty percent and thirty percent," Harry murmured, still watching Fawkes.

"And stage three?" Dumbledore asked softly.

"Point four percent and forty percent," Harry answered.

"Stage four?" Dumbledore asked, dreading the answer.

"Point one percent and fifty percent," Harry replied.

"And what is the longest time a submissive has survived without mating after entering Désespoir?" Dumbledore asked, hoping that he would never really need to know the information.

Harry gave a small grim smile and said, "Fifty-one weeks and two days."

"I see. What can be done?" Dumbledore asked seriously. Harry could not die! He must live to fight the darkness in their world.

"Nothing," Neville said just as seriously when it became apparent that Harry wasn't going to answer. "Not really. Sugar first thing in the morning and a calming presence can help them deal with the symptoms, but nothing can actually stop or stall the degeneration."

Dumbledore wove his fingers together on the desk and thought about what he had just been told. He briefly wondered why Olympe hadn't been as informative but dismissed the thought as he realized he likely hadn't asked the right questions. He _definitely_ needed to contact the Veela Council for the second book. For now, however, there wasn't anything else he could do or any other questions he could ask that he thought would actually be answered. Eventually, he nodded and said, "Very well. I will inform the staff of the situation. However, while I am grateful for this information, there was a much different reason why I asked for Harry to come to my office. If you stay, I must ask you to promise to keep this information confidential as it is of a personal and familial nature."

Harry heard the word _familial _and immediately snorted in disgust. "The wards fell, didn't they? About time. Are the bastards dead yet?"

Dumbledore inhaled sharply at the vitriol in Harry's tone. "My boy…"

"I told you years ago that there was no love lost between us, Headmaster," Harry said contemptuously. "I'm glad the wards are down and I'll be even _more_ glad when they get tortured to death by Death Eaters."

"Harry, please, I don't think you understand what you've done," Dumbledore said sadly. How could the boy feel this way about his only living family?

Harry finally looked over at the Headmaster. He had a rather evil-looking smirk on his face. "No? You don't think so? How about I tell you, then? You know, just so that _you_ understand that _I_ understand the situation."

Dumbledore sighed and opened his mouth but was interrupted.

"I sacrificed my mother's sacrifice," Harry said coldly. "That sums it up, really, but I'll go ahead and tell you the specifics. The _darling, sweet, loving _aunt of mine and her _handsome, intelligent, doting_ son are now left without their means of hiding from the big bad wizards. And since my _wonderful _uncle lives with them, he's in the same boat, so to speak. In other words, they are now prime Death Eater targets. Maybe I should have Snape relay the address to Voldemort?"

"Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore said disapprovingly while still chilled by Harry's cold words.

Harry blinked in disbelief then actually nodded his acquiescence. Unlike most of the other teachers, it did appear that Snape had an understanding of the situation because he definitely hadn't been his normal antagonistic self towards Harry. And now that he thought about it, the man's nearly complete absence from Harry's life was rather suspicious. He wouldn't be surprised if Snape had been deliberately avoiding him.

"Professor Snape," Harry said obligingly. "But to continue. The protection I had against Voldemort specifically and the Death Eaters in general is also now gone. Am I right or am I right?" Harry asked snidely. The blood wards on Privet Drive were one of the first things his grandfather had had researched for him. He'd known since the summer before fifth year – the first summer he'd spent with his grandfather – that the wards would fall if he spent too much time away. He'd been looking forward to it.

"This is very serious, Harry," Dumbledore said gravely. "Your mother's sacrifice was an immense advantage to you against Voldemort and now, through your own actions, it is gone forever."

"I. Don't. Care," Harry said succinctly. "Good riddance."

"Harry!" Dumbledore protested, horrified at Harry's attitude.

"Better gone than tied to that bitch and her spawn," Harry said coldly.

Dumbledore was speechless.

Harry stood and looked at the old man with pity. How could such an intelligent man with so many accomplishments to his name be so blind when it came to Harry? There were so many things the man could have done – and at so many different stages of Harry's life – but had instead done nothing out of some all-encompassing faith in the blood wards initiated by Lily Potter's sacrifice. Whatever. It was too late for the man to seek redemption from him as far as Harry was concerned.

"Was that all? May we leave now?" Harry asked emotionlessly.

Dumbledore nodded silently and watched as the two boys left his office. Once they were gone he bowed his head mournfully. The more he interacted with Harry the more he despaired of the boy doing the right thing. There had to be a way to get the boy to realize how important his responsibilities were in the fight against Voldemort. There just had to. And Albus needed to find it quickly or all would be lost.

--HPDM--

"Harry?" Hermione called softly.

Harry looked up briefly from the chocolate swirl cheesecake he was consuming with great industry. The Hogwarts house-elves made excellent cheesecake, second only to his grandfather's chefs, and he was enjoying great quantities of it at the moment. He, Hermione, and Neville had retired to the kitchens for dinner instead of joining the student body. After the meeting with the Headmaster, the day had actually improved and he hadn't wanted to tempt fate, so he had convinced his friends (easily) to join him in the kitchens instead. The elves, of course, fell over each other in ecstasy at having _three _guests.

"Yes?" Harry answered after his latest bite of his dessert.

"I have a question," Hermione said hesitantly. "You don't have to answer, of course, but I'm just wondering. You're my friend and I'm worried about you and I was thinking about everything…

"Whoa," Harry said with a small laugh. "Slow down. Just ask, all right?"

Hermione chewed her lip for a moment as both boys gazed at her curiously. "I don't want to make you mad," she said worriedly.

Harry took a big bite of cheesecake and considered his friend and what her question might be. Eventually he shrugged, swallowed his bite, and said. "You'll never know if you don't ask."

"I guess," Hermione said then sighed and straightened her shoulders. "I did some calculations and I came up with some numbers that I don't like."

"And," Harry drew out.

"Well, you started with 352 suitors…," Hermione started.

"Only 347," Harry interrupted.

Hermione blinked. "But the article…"

"There were five suitors that failed the fertility/virility certification," Harry said in unconcern and took another bit of his dessert.

"Oh," Hermione said as she blinked in surprise. She shook herself a moment later and said, "Still, 347 suitors will take you all the way through to your birthday. I mean, you are only meeting twelve a week and if you divide that…"

"Yes, Hermione," Harry said, cutting off the math lesson. "Through to my birthday. And?"

Hermione chewed her lip some more as she watched her friend take another slice of the cheesecake that had been left on their little corner table. She'd felt Neville stiffen next to her and was wary of continuing, but she was so worried…

"It's just…that'll be the start of stage three for you," Hermione said softly. "You'll still have so many people… What are going to do? You could die! Twenty percent of the submissives die the first day of stage three! And forty-one percent by the end! I don't want you to die! You're my first friend! I don't…"

"Hermione!" Harry said sharply, cutting into his friend's increasingly hysterical rant.

Hermione quieted but picked up her napkin and started twisting it mercilessly. "Just…just tell me you have a plan. Tell me you aren't going to die," Hermione pleaded.

Harry sighed and slowly stabbed his fork several times into his new piece of cheesecake, turning his head and looking into the distance. "I can't promise I won't die," he said eventually. "All I can promise is that I'll do everything I can to not die. That's all I can promise."

"But…" Hermione started, tears forming in her eyes.

Harry looked back at his friend and shook his head at her. "That's all I can promise."

"Will you tell me at least some of your plans?" Hermione begged. "There're so many left and…"

"Not as many as you think," Harry said gently. "The dates are actually going quite well in regards to eliminations. Surely you've noticed with all these _calculations _you've been doing," he teased lightly.

Hermione let out a small watery laugh. "Yes. I saw you went from 352 to 338 in only one week. I'd wondered how you'd eliminated more than twelve in one week. But even if you discount the five who didn't pass certification, you still eliminated nine suitors out of twelve."

"And that's been standard," Harry said and cut and stabbed another bit of cheesecake. "By the time I finish meeting everyone, I expect I'll only have eighty or ninety suitors left." He put the bite in his mouth.

"That's still a lot of people to evaluate before stage four," Hermione said worriedly, waving her mangled napkin in agitation.

Harry was quiet for nearly a minute as he finished savoring first one and then another bite of cheesecake. He pondered whether he should reveal some of his plans to his friends. While doing so wouldn't soothe their fears, perhaps understanding what he was doing and why would at least give them some comfort as they watched him deteriorate before their eyes.

Harry looked both his friends in the eye and said, "I'll be entering stage four. I won't be mating until Christmas."

Neville's eyes widened comically and he drew in a sharp breath in shock. Hermione made a wordless cry before questioning in distress, "Why? Why? You know the odds. Why risk yourself like that? Why not make a decision sooner? Why…"

"I have my reasons," Harry said firmly and pursed his lips a moment. "Just listen for a minute, all right?"

Neville swallowed thickly and nodded his head. Hermione stifled a cry behind both hands as she stared at Harry wordlessly.

Harry sighed and looked down at his plate. He took another bite of cheesecake as he gathered his thoughts. "Désespoir…Desperation…it's called that for a reason. As time goes on, my Veela side will get more and more _desperate_ to mate. It will be even worse for me because my magic is already so jittery and sensitive from being opened so much these past months. A chaperone becomes more and more important as time passes because the possibility of simply choosing a mate, _any _mate, no matter their suitability, becomes greater and greater. Which is bad."

Harry looked at his friends expectantly and they both nodded in understanding.

"My magic, as it destabilizes, will yearn for one thing," Harry continued. "To mate. To bond. That will become my magic's single-minded focus. The power and drive behind that one single goal will become nearly unbearable and irresistible. I'm a stubborn bastard, however."

Both Neville and Hermione gave a nervous laugh, though you couldn't hear Hermione's very well as she still had her hands over her mouth.

"My…chaperone and I both feel that I will make it through to Christmas," Harry said firmly. "Not _easily_, of course, but alive and sane enough. We can't be _absolutely_ certain, but we're certain enough to risk my life on it. And I plan on making a decision by the end of stage three, by Halloween."

"Then why…," Neville started but stopped when Harry shook his head.

Harry took a deep breath and tapped his scar. "Because of this," he said. "You see, we think, that is, my chaperone and I, we think that if the mating bond is strong enough, it will overpower the link I have with Voldemort. We think that the link will be completely and utterly eradicated by the mating bond _if, _and _only _if, the mating bond has more power behind its creation than my scar did. And so…we're arranging things to make it as strong as possible."

"And that involves waiting until Christmas?" Neville asked quietly.

Harry nodded. "Yes. Think about it a moment. I'm a powerful wizard. The desperation, the _power, _that's going to be driving the bond creation by Christmas… Well, hopefully it will be enough. And we've got some other ideas we might implement as well."

"You're going to tease him," Hermione said softly. "You're going to tease whoever you pick so that they're almost as desperate as you."

Harry gave a surprised and pleased laugh. "I should have known you would figure it out," he said. "Yes, you're right. If my choice is a full- or half-Veela, anyway. The tactic probably wouldn't work on a human and those are the only three races I have left now."

"I don't understand," Neville admitted in confusion.

"He's going to acknowledge his mate, let them know that they've been chosen, but refuse to bond with them," Hermione explained, still distressed but feeling more comfortable as she assumed her role of lecturer. "By acknowledging the dominant but then continually challenging their, well, _authority_, I guess, the dominant's magic will also become more focused and desperate, thereby contributing to the power behind the creation of the bond and increasing the possibility of ousting the link with Voldemort."

"Exactly," Harry nodded. He took another bit of dessert.

"Oh," Neville said, nonplussed. "I'd not heard of that."

"I actually read about it when I was researching destabilization," Hermione offered. "That was listed as one way to cause a sort of artificial destabilization in order to study the naturally occurring phenomenon."

"Oh," Neville said again. After a moment he asked, "Are you going to make him chase you, too?"

"Chase?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows curiously.

Neville nodded and took his turn at explaining. "A chase, depending upon how long and tiring it is, can increase the strength of a bond. It's tricky, though. Too short and the endorphins don't rise enough to make a difference. Too long and the participants are too tired and it actually weakens the bond. My cousin said he was never so glad to be physically fit as when he had to chase Cecilia. He hadn't been expecting it, but she was feeling…frisky."

Harry snorted and nearly lost his bite of cheesecake to laughter. "Frisky?"

Neville shrugged uncomfortably, a small blush on his face. "That's what she said."

"So will you?" Hermione asked, turning to Harry.

Harry nodded. "Yes, I'll make him chase me."

"That'll be fun," Neville snorted in amusement.

Harry grinned.

"Wear good shoes," was Hermione's advice.

Harry laughed.

--February 17--

Albus looked around the room as people continued to trickle in for the Order meeting he had called. They all knew they were there to talk about Harry and they were gossiping accordingly. Soon enough the last of the members arrived and he tapped his teacup with his spoon.

"Please, everyone, take a seat," Albus said. When all the members were settled, he said, "Alastor, have you had any success?"

Moody leaned back in his seat and flicked his normal eye around at everyone in the room while keeping the focus of his magical eye on the surroundings beyond the room. "Minimal. As I explained last month, I suspected the lad had chosen The Rose Inn as the initial meeting place but with the entire building covered in occluding wards that block my eye…," he growled. "Well, I wasn't certain then, but I'm certain now."

"You've confirmed sightings of known suitors?" Kingsley asked in interest.

Moody nodded. "Aye. I've seen a few enter and leave on the same day as well as a few that appeared to have stayed a few days."

"You're sure of your sightings?" asked Hestia.

Alastor chuckled in amusement. "Aye."

"What is so amusing, Alastor?" Albus asked curiously.

"I've seen some of the lads leave with a silly grin on their faces," Alastor said with a grin. "Easy to pick out, they were."

"Some?" Albus questioned, instantly picking up on the qualifier.

Alastor nodded. "Yes. Some. Most of them seem no different when they leave."

"That seems significant," Albus said. "Perhaps those dates went exceptionally well."

Moody shrugged his shoulders in indifference but did nod his agreement.

"Do you have a list of names?" Albus asked hopefully.

He did, actually, have a list of names. He'd thought long and hard about whether to provide those names to Albus, however. After all, not only was it illegal to interfere, it also wasn't his place. In the end, however, he had decided to share them as his unofficial assistance to the lad. Any suitor that fell to Albus' machinations would not be a fitting mate for the Potter lad and Alastor was certain that Potter would, somehow, pick up on which ones proved unsuitable. Why not make it that much easier for him?

Alastor pulled out a small scroll and passed it to Albus. "Here. That's a list of everyone I believe to be a suitor. The ones that left grinning like lovesick idiots are marked with a star."

"There are only five marked names," Albus said in disappointment.

"I don't know who all the remaining suitors are, Albus," Moody said gruffly. "I've done my best. Besides, five out of ten is pretty good odds for going into a project almost completely blind."

"Ten?" Arthur asked from the end of the table. "Why do you say ten?"

"Because he can subtract," Severus said irritably. "Today's article said he had 290 suitors left and December's said 352. That's sixty-two suitors the brat has eliminated in just six weeks. Since he's meeting twelve a week, that's seventy-two he's met to date. Sixty-two from seventy-two is ten."

"Oh," Arthur said with a frown. "How is he eliminating so many?"

"I don't know, Arthur," Albus said mildly. "That is part of what we are here to discuss today."

"You won't have much luck, Albus," Moody said. "I've already tried talking to a few of those lads and they've been spelled just like they were during round two." He waved at the list sitting on the table. "They won't be talking about their time with the lad anytime soon. I did find out that the secrecy ward will drop on the first of August."

"What about those that witnessed the dates?" Albus asked with a frown. "Has anyone heard anything?" When several people spoke up at once, Albus held up a hand and said, "One at a time, please. Marcus?"

"I asked around at Fenton Park and Museum as you asked and all I was able to find out was that both Potter and his date were polite to all the tour guides and sales-clerks," Marcus said with a small grimace of annoyance. "Everyone claimed that they didn't hear a single bit of any conversations held even though they must have. It was a private tour, by Merlin, they had to have heard something!"

"Amazing," Severus deadpanned. "People with discretion."

"Severus, please," Albus said wearily.

"I found the same thing at all the restaurants I went to," Marcus continued in aggravation. "Nobody was willing to say anything other than Potter and his date were polite and were welcome to return at any time."

"Those were some fancy restaurants he went to," Elphias volunteered. "Likely the employees know that any tattling on their part about the customers would get them fired."

Several people nodded in understanding at Elphias' explanation.

"Meredith? Did you find anything?" Albus asked one of his newer and younger members.

"Nothing, Headmaster," the young woman said with a headshake. "I went to the list of places you gave me and nobody really knew anything. Unlike the fancier places that Marcus visited, everyone where I went was perfectly happy to talk about how Harry Potter did this and Harry Potter did that. But they didn't tell me anything that wasn't already in _The Prophet._"

"Were either of you able to identify any of the suitors?" Albus asked then sighed when both shook their heads in the negative.

"I tell you, Albus, the lad has retained some top-notch guards," Moody said admiringly. "The security they've set up at every meeting has been the best I've seen, right on par with what's done for meetings between international dignitaries. I wouldn't be surprised if his guards have experience in that area."

"They certainly have employed some highly advanced spells," Kingsley said thoughtfully. "The boy is obviously very serious about keeping his tests secret."

Alastor grinned scarily. "Time-released privacy spells to keep the suitors from spilling anything before the lad is ready. Advanced anti-spying charms to keep away the press. Occluder wards to hide his chaperone. Distortion fields to hide the suitors. Amazing!" Moody was almost giddy in his approval.

Albus rubbed his forehead wearily. "Alastor, please, this is not actually good news."

"Perhaps not," Alastor granted. "But it's likely related to how he got that portkey."

Albus frowned thoughtfully then nodded. "The guards were probably recommended by whoever allowed Harry to use their portkey," he said.

"I still maintain that the portkey belongs to the lad himself," Alastor argued. "But, yes, that's what I meant. The lad has a knowledgeable and high-level international contact that's helping him, or giving advice at the very least."

"Kingsley, Nymphadora, any success on finding the identity of those guards?" Albus asked.

Both aurors shook their heads. "I did find out that they are ICW licensed bodyguards, though," Tonks said brightly.

"Oh?" Albus asked in surprise. Such guards were _quite _pricey.

"Of course they are," Alastor muttered with a nod.

Tonks nodded eagerly. "A suitor last week took Harry to a candy convention and the guards were stopped at the door for being heavily armed. I can just imagine what type of weapons they were carrying being ICW licensed. Anyway, I was close enough to watch the security check and saw them pull out their licenses; that's how I found out."

"Did you talk to the ICW Guard Office?" Albus asked hopefully.

Tonks nodded glumly. "Classified," she said. "I couldn't get any information about which of their guards was assigned to Harry or why or for how long or anything else. All that information is classified. Like Moody did when he contacted them, I got the impression that they had expected my call and were laughing at me. I _did _find out that the guards, like all ICW guards, wear unbreakable glamours, so trying to determine who they are by their appearance would be pointless."

"No glamour is unbreakable," Molly protested. "A simple finite incantatem will end every one of them."

"Not these," Kingsley denied. "When I was in auror training, we had an ICW guard come to recruit. One of the demonstrations he did was their glamour. It's definitely unbreakable and, unfortunately, proprietary. How it's done has never been revealed outside of the guards. Not even the non-guard superiors in the ICW know how to do it."

"What about tracking the guards through the Veela nation, Bill?" Albus asked, not expecting good news given the information so far. "Were you able to find anything?"

"No," Bill admitted, shaking his head. "There are two guard services available and both _decline to speak of their clients_." Bill laughed briefly and added, "Of course, there's the Veela Royal Guard, which you can also hire if you've got the money. I had dismissed them as a possibility – it's ten times as much to hire their guards as it is to hire from one of the other businesses – but maybe I was too hasty."

"Why so?" Arthur asked curiously. "I know Harry has a trust fund, but as far as I know it's not so large as to support the cost you're implying."

"Maybe Harry's not paying for them," Bill said with a dismissive shrug. "And I say that because I found out that all of the Royal Guards are ICW licensed, although not all ICW licensed guards are part of the Royal Guard. The other two businesses advertise that they have ICW licensed guards available for an additional fee."

"If he's not paying for the guards, then who is?" Arthur asked in bafflement. "Who else would pay for such an expense?"

There was silence for a moment before Severus snorted and said disdainfully, "I cannot believe that you have not figured this out months ago when the subject of the brat's guards first came up. Or the rental of Madam Puddifoot's and all those meals. Or the number of owls that must have been rented to deliver all the response cards. Or the rental of The Rose Inn's largest convention room. Or his current…"

"Yes, Severus," Albus said impatiently, overriding the angry comments others were about to make.

"_Obviously_, it is the chaperone that is paying for everything," Severus finished snidely.

Albus sighed in frustration but could hardly argue; he had also come to that conclusion. "And has anyone discovered anything about the chaperone?"

Silence met Albus query.

"Very well," Albus said in disappointment. "Let us continue, then. "What about your analysis of the newspaper articles, Molly?" Albus asked.

"They don't say much I believe, Albus," Molly said in agitation. "_The Prophet _is the same as always, what with them making the smallest incident out to be an international debacle. They talk about the hidden meaning of every small gesture but don't actually have any quotes. They've not been able to get close enough."

"The mark of excellent guards," Alastor said with an approving chuckle.

"And the international papers, Molly?" Albus asked, ignoring Moody's comment.

"Their coverage is less sensational but basically the same," Molly said. "I'm sorry I don't have better news," she added sadly.

"That's all right, Molly," Albus said reassuringly. "Thank you for taking the time to do so much reading. Will you be able to continue?"

Molly nodded. "I'd be happy to, Albus."

"Does anyone have any information at all that could possibly help young Charles when he goes on his date with Harry?" Albus asked, adroitly hiding the desperation he was feeling.

When nobody spoke up, Albus closed his eyes a moment in bitter disappointment. "Let us speak of Voldemort's activities, then…"

--end chapter--

A/N: I've _been _to a candy convention – they're cool! I went home with _boxes_ of stuff.


	19. March & Rookwood

A/N: For those of you who've asked/commented on Dumbledore – I hope this chapter gives insight into his motivations. As I've said, Dumbledore is not evil. He's not even manipulative simply for control's sake. I hope that comes across…

A few people have asked about Alastor. HP Lexicon puts his age as "older", possibly the same age as Arthur Weasley, who was born c. 1950. I always got the impression he was a bit older than that, perhaps a contemporary of Tom Riddle and his original clique. So c. 1930, or 67 in 1997. I've made him older still in this fic – old enough to participate in WWII. (I needed him to see hell thrice, after all.) So…consider him born c. 1920 – or being 77 in this fic, give or take.

Current number of chapters is sitting at 33, though I'm considering separating one into two… Good news on the last chapter – I got a third of it done yesterday! Yes! Can anyone tell me _why_ inspiration likes to strike at such inconvenient times? Honestly, staying up to 2:00 in the morning typing is not conducive to a happy morning. But – I got a third done! Yay!

**Chapter 19 – March & Rookwood **

_The Quibbler, Special Addition to March Edition,_ Monday, March 17, 1997

_**Current Count of Suitors: 214**_

_Excerpt from __An Introduction to Veela__, Chapter 11 - Myths, Legends, & Spiritual Belief Systems_

--March 11--

Harry waited patiently with his grandfather in the common room of his suite for the arrival of Augustus Rookwood. "A.R." had only just revealed his name the week prior with a letter begging very prettily for the meeting to go forward. And beg he should as Harry was quite sure the man was nearly seventy years old and shouldn't have passed this far into the courtships in the first place. Harry, not to mention his grandfather and the guards, were quite interested in finding out just how Rookwood had bypassed the anti-perjury quill.

Augustus had claimed that he was revealing his identity so as to let Harry have some warning before they met and Harry appreciated the thought. He'd spoken with his grandfather about what to do – should he eliminate the man or not for lying about his age? – but they had decided together that any man so clever as to somehow bypass the quills deserved a fair hearing regardless of his age and had sent a postcard re-confirming the meeting. Besides, the man had begged _very _prettily and had sent a nice present as well.

The fact that Augustus was a Death Eater was not that important to him. He'd met a few Death Eaters for dates already – Lucius Malfoy had failed five minutes in for magic incompatibility, thank Merlin – but Augustus was the first _convicted_ Death Eater he was meeting privately. He'd given only brief thought to turning in the man but held off for two reasons. One, he wanted to know how the man had bypassed the test. And, two, as he'd told Neville months ago in regards to the married men, he didn't want to eliminate anybody who might simply be trapped in a bond they didn't want. That the bond was to Voldemort instead of a spouse was really immaterial.

Nevertheless, he was a bit bemused by the fact that he was meeting with a convict for a private dinner. Still, if his age was discounted, Augustus Rookwood _had _passed all the tests so far… A knock sounded on the door to the sitting room and a moment later one of his guards opened the door and entered the room.

"Mr. Rookwood has passed inspection conditionally," the guard reported. "He is not glamoured, spelled, or coated in any potions. He carries no weapons other than his wand. The only other magical items he brought are a portkey – the destination of which is confirmed as the receiving area of the restaurant Cheltenham's – and a smallish sphere. He has declined to tell us the sphere's purpose, claiming that he will speak of it only once meeting you, but my inspection revealed that it is not dangerous in any known way. He claims that the sphere is harmless and has offered to swear a magical vow or sign a magical contract to that effect, if you so desire."

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise and looked to his grandfather for advice.

Robert frowned in thought for a moment. "If he has offered, it is likely he is willing to comply with any choice we make," he said. "Therefore, the sphere is likely harmless as he claims."

"He could be bluffing," Harry suggested, although he actually agreed with his grandfather's assessment.

"True," Robert acknowledged easily. "But if he is telling the truth, a contract will not harm him."

"Will you please oversee a contract, Antoine?" Harry asked the guard.

The guard nodded his head respectfully and disappeared back out the connecting door. Harry spent the next several minutes contemplating what he'd been told. Rookwood had worked in the Department of Mysteries before his arrest in 1981. Had he pilfered a prophecy sphere? If so, why? And why bring it now? His musings were interrupted when the guard returned and nodded his head.

Harry and Robert followed the guard into the sitting room where Harry stopped abruptly and stared in shock at his date for the evening. "You look quite different than I expected," Harry said finally to the surprisingly handsome man.

Augustus smiled in wry amusement and said, "This is my true appearance. Undoubtedly you were expecting a hunched, scrawny, pockmarked, nasty looking old man instead of a still-mostly-blond-haired, blue-eyed Adonis, hmmm?"

Harry laughed in surprise and walked fully into the room and towards his date. "Yes, I'm afraid so," he said.

"I am pleased to disappoint you," Augustus said with a smile as he bowed then held out his hand.

Harry placed his hand in Augustus' and immediately shuddered. He pulled his hand away quickly, noting absently that the man had released him easily. "As am I. However, I feel I must tell you immediately that I will be dismissing you due to magic incompatibility. It is your choice whether we continue with the plans you've made for this evening."

"I understand," August said with a nod of his head. "I must admit that I was actually surprised that I passed through the first test of magic compatibility. I'm hardly surprised that I failed this time. Your magic has become quite a bit more sensitive, hasn't it?"

"Yes," Harry acknowledged. "Thank you for understanding. You're one of the few that has understood without me having to explain. What would you like to do in regards to our scheduled time together?"

Augustus snorted and shook his head. "Morons," he said. "I must thank you for allowing me to meet you despite my age. I'm sure you considered canceling the date."

"I did," Harry admitted with a small smile. "But I was impressed with your cleverness, not to mention all of us are quite interested in how you bypassed the quill."

Augustus chuckled and said, "I will reveal my secret after we have spoken on the topics I need to discuss with you."

"Need?" Harry asked suspiciously. "And you still have not answered my question."

"I admit to an ulterior motive for being here today and would appreciate if we could continue with our date," Augustus said. "I beg you to hear me out and assure you that what I wish to discuss is not related to your courtships and I accept my dismissal."

"Very well," Harry said, slightly intrigued. A minute later he was slightly irritated as he once more accepted help to rise from the ground, this time from his grandfather as Augustus' touch repulsed him.

Augustus merely smiled at Harry as they walked to the receiving podium. Augustus announced himself to the maître d' and the party was immediately escorted to a private room.

Harry admired the décor of the restaurant as they were led through it. Cheltenham's was certainly an impressive place. Harry paused just outside the door to the private room as one of the guards inspected the room for hostile magic. Once the room was declared clean, he walked to the table and allowed Augustus to seat him. The table was surprisingly clear given what he'd seen so far of the restaurant; he would have expected a fancy layout.

The guards took up positions on either side of the table, one close to Harry and the other guarding over Augustus. His grandfather took the seat that had been set against one of walls; it was out of the way but still near enough to overhear any conversation. Harry watched as Augustus took his own seat then asked curiously, "You're not going to try and recruit me for your master, are you?"

Augustus laughed lightly then smirked and said, "You have no idea who my real master actually is, Mr. Potter. But I can hardly fault you for your question given all the effort that has been put into hiding my true allegiances and circumstances."

Harry cocked his head to the side and obligingly asked, "And what are your true allegiances and circumstances?"

"I am an Unspeakable, Mr. Potter," Augustus said.

"Please call me Harry. And are you implying present tense?" Harry asked.

"Thank you, Harry. And yes, I am," Augustus answered.

"I wouldn't think that you would still be an Unspeakable after your stint in Azkaban," Harry commented mildly.

Augustus smiled slightly and said, "I've not spent any time at all in Azkaban, Harry. I've never even seen the island."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "But…"

Augustus held up a hand and said, "Please let me explain."

Harry nodded dumbly.

"Perhaps some tea first," Augustus said and tapped a small off-color square on the tablecloth that Harry hadn't noticed before. Moments later a server arrived, was quickly checked by the guards, and deposited a fancy tea service on the table before disappearing. Augustus wasted no time in serving both of them some tea.

"I am an Unspeakable," Augustus said after taking several sips of his tea, "and have been since the day I graduated from Hogwarts. The head of the Unspeakables at that time came to me over the holidays before my graduation and recruited me with a very specific mission in mind. I was to keep in contact with Tom Riddle… You do know who that is, correct?"

"Voldemort," Harry answered and was surprised when August merely nodded instead of flinching.

"Yes," Augustus said then picked up where he'd left off. "I was to keep in contact with Tom Riddle and report back to the Unspeakables as much as I was able to glean about Tom and his activities. You see, there was a prophecy about him and the Unspeakables wanted to keep a very close watch on the man."

Harry narrowed his eyes at the mention of a prophecy – he was well acquainted with their capacity to destroy lives – but kept his silence.

"When Tom Riddle fully adopted his new moniker, my mission expanded, though it remained basically unchanged: I was to infiltrate the new Dark Lord's ranks and continue reporting back about him and his activities. Another prophecy was spoken and evaluated and it was decided, for reasons I will mention in a bit, that I was to be captured by the Ministry and imprisoned. At least, that is what it would look like to the world at large."

"But that's not what happened," Harry surmised.

"Yes and no," Augustus said. "Karkaroff did indeed betray me – with a bit of magical finagling – and I really was sentenced to Azkaban. I, that is, a Death Eater captured by my fellow Unspeakables and glamoured to look like me, really was taken to Azkaban and left to rot."

"I hope they deserved it," Harry interrupted mildly.

"Oh, they did," Augustus assured. "Connor DeWalt was one of the most sadistic Death Eaters. It was such a shame that the man went missing."

"And where is he now?" Harry asked suspiciously. "He – as you – was broken out of prison last year."

Augustus clucked in unconvincing sorrow. "I'm afraid the man is still missing to this day."

Harry snorted in amusement. Missing. Right. Obviously the Unspeakables had tied up a few loose ends in a more permanent fashion. "I see," he said with just as much mock sorrow.

Augustus smirked and opened his mouth to continue his story when he was interrupted.

"Why wasn't he discovered?" Harry asked. "A glamour doesn't seem a secure way to hide someone's identity, especially when they could just say that they were actually someone else."

"A good question, surely," Augustus said with approval. "The man was spelled silent, much as you have done with your suitors, just more extensively and invasively. And it may or may not be the same spell your guards use, but the Unspeakables also know how to cast an unbreakable glamour."

Harry raised his eyebrows and glanced at his guards for their reactions. They revealed no change in expression, of course. He returned his attention to Augustus. "I see," he said again.

"Shall I continue or do you have more questions," Augustus asked politely.

"Please continue," Harry said and went back to slowly sipping his tea.

Augustus nodded and complied. "Once I was officially tucked away in Azkaban, I was free to roam the country and carry out missions for my true _master, _if you will."

"What better cover than being incarcerated?" Harry questioned wryly.

"Indeed," Augustus said with a smile.

"So what did you do?" Harry asked curiously, wondering if he would actually get an answer given the secret nature of the Unspeakables.

"I will tell you a little later," Augustus said to Harry's surprise. "First, I'd like to explain a bit more about the Unspeakables."

Harry nodded his interest and absently swirled his tea as he listened.

"First, the Unspeakables have never needed to rely upon the Ministry," Augustus explained. "We are, in fact, a completely financially independent organization. At one time we felt that it would be advantageous to work within the British Ministry and so we made an alliance. When it became apparent that our association would no longer be in the best interests of our goals, we engineered a very public break in the form of my very public capture and imprisonment."

"But why?" Harry asked in confusion. "Why would it be more advantageous for your department to be out of favor? I know that both your funding and your authority were drastically reduced after the first war. After your betrayal."

"My supposed betrayal," Augustus corrected. "Remember, I said we were financially independent. The cut in funding made no difference to us. And the reduction in authority was a blessing. You see, we were no longer called upon to perform many duties for various Ministry departments."

"Leaving more free time to carry out your own missions," Harry said in understanding.

Augustus smiled in approval. "Exactly."

"And those were?" Harry questioned leadingly.

"The Unspeakables' one true goal and specialization is the pursuit and preservation of knowledge," Augustus said. "Our missions were directly related to this goal."

Harry nodded and continued to listen attentively. This story was fascinating.

"As I and several of my brethren were, essentially, invisible, we were the most important members in the pursuit of our goal," Augustus continued. "Our goal, which was made all the more important because we knew that we had a limited time in which to accomplish it. You see, as I mentioned, there was a prophecy."

Harry's face became stone and he said, "If it's the one about me, I've heard it."

"Have you now?" Augustus asked mildly.

"Yes," Harry said shortly.

"Somehow, given what it says and knowing Albus Dumbledore's objective as I do, I find that hard to believe," Augustus said. "Tell me, what does it say about the Squirrel?"

Harry looked blankly at the man and said, "Squirrel? There's no mention of a squirrel."

"Oh, but there is," Augustus denied. "However, it's not until the last stanza."

Harry's face was still blank. Finally, he said emotionlessly, "I see. I don't suppose you would be willing to tell me the entire prophecy as you know it."

In answer, Augustus reached into his pocket and pulled out an orb and set it on the table. "Go ahead. Touch it," he offered.

Harry stared at the orb for nearly a full minute before returning his attention to the man across from him. "I thought it was destroyed," he said.

Augustus laughed with true amusement. "Oh, no. Do you really think we would keep such a valuable collection of prophecies in an area that just anybody could get to? And organized so haphazardly on shelves that weren't even secured? Or even in glass spheres that would break if you accidentally dropped them? No, Harry, that room was simply a decoy and was full of copies only. It was a grand mess you made, most definitely, but nothing was truly lost."

Harry stared at the sphere sitting innocently on the table. He was having a bit of trouble wrapping his mind around what Augustus had just told him. "So. This sphere. It wouldn't break if it fell."

"No, of course not," Augustus said with a snort. "Go ahead. Toss it against the wall."

He wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to. He hated that prophecy with a passion and what it had done to his life. But Harry just couldn't muster the gumption to actually do it. He stared at Augustus wordlessly.

Augustus picked up the sphere and hefted it a bit. "I chose this restaurant for a reason," he said mildly. "It has stone walls." With that statement, Augustus drew back his arm and threw the sphere as hard as he could at the white marble wall.

Harry watched as the sphere hit the wall with a _tink_, didn't break, rebounded slightly and fell to the carpet, also not breaking, and rolled back towards the table. He stared at the sphere that had stopped just three feet away from him. A moment later Augustus rose, retrieved the sphere, and sat back down.

"Would you like to hear it?" Augustus asked softly.

Harry nodded, still too dumbfounded to speak.

Augustus nodded and placed the sphere in the middle of the table. A moment later he pulled his wand and swished it over the sphere as he intoned the spell _prodeo__. _Unlike in the Department of Mysteries when the prophecy sphere had been broken, this sphere projected a full-color, three-dimensional image of Trelawney in all her gaudily-dressed glory. Both watched as Trelawney's eyes rolled to the back of her head and she opened her mouth.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…__  
Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…__  
And the Dark Lord will mark him as equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…__  
And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…  
__The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…"_

"_The one with the power to revive the Dark Lord approaches…__  
Raised by those who have thrice denied him, raised by family untrue…__  
And he shall gain the knowledge of his ancestors and turn his allegiance to the Hawks…__  
And the Kingdom shall fall to ruin, for a new age cannot dawn upon the old…  
The one with the power to revive the Dark Lord approaches…"_

"_The one who shall bear the new King approaches…  
Birthing the seventh son and single scion, birthing the King of Avalon…  
And he shall raise the King in another land and under the aegis of the Hawks…  
And the King shall come when the last hope is lost, and the people shall give him their fealty…  
The one who shall bear the new King approaches…"_

"_And Magic shall provide counselors three…  
The Tiger who holds the crown…  
The Wolf who shall give a daughter as wife…  
The Squirrel who shall reveal ten thousand secrets…  
And a new era shall dawn upon the lands…"_

Trelawney slumped in her chair and the image abruptly disappeared. Harry remained silent as Augustus reached into his pocket again, this time to pull out a small scroll that he pushed across the table.

Harry slowly picked up the scroll, removed the ribbon and unrolled it. He read the contents through three times before rolling the scroll back up and replacing the ribbon. He stared at the scroll for several moments before handing it to Antoine. "Please give this to my chaperone." Better to let his grandfather hold onto the transcription than risking it at Hogwarts.

As Antoine passed the scroll along, Harry looked back over at Augustus.

"How much did you already know?" Augustus asked curiously.

"Only the first stanza," Harry replied, still somewhat in shock.

Augustus nodded. "Yes, that makes sense given Dumbledore's agenda."

"Which is?" Harry asked pointedly.

"He is trying to break the prophecy," Augustus supplied. "You can hardly blame the man, really. Who wouldn't want to avert Armageddon if they could?"

"Can that be done? Is that possible?" Harry asked in surprise.

"That's up for debate," Augustus replied. "Some people claim that prophecies can be broken and use as their evidence all the prophecies that are apparently unfulfilled. Some people say that breaking a prophecy is impossible and that all prophecies are fulfilled, even if nobody is aware of how or when."

"Which side of the argument do you favor?" Harry asked.

"That prophecies cannot be broken," Augustus answered seriously.

"And the remainder of your brethren?" Harry asked curiously.

"It's actually a nearly even split," Augustus answered with a bit of amusement. "We have quite the debates about it sometimes. However, everyone _does_ agree that if part of a prophecy has come true then the remainder of it will eventually come to pass."

"Obviously Dumbledore doesn't see things that way," Harry said.

"No, he doesn't," Augustus agreed. "He is, presumably, working from the idea that each stanza is complete in and of itself."

"And what do the Unspeakables believe about this one?" Harry asked, flicking a finger towards the prophecy sphere still on the table.

"We believe that the first stanza has already come to pass, the second stanza is in the process of coming to pass, the third stanza has yet to come to pass, and the fourth stanza is, partly, our responsibility to make come to pass," Augustus answered solemnly.

"But what about the whole vanquish the Dark Lord thing?" Harry asked, equally solemn. "The whole neither can live while the other survives."

"What do you think?" Augustus asked, staring at Harry intently.

Harry leaned back in his seat and said, "I believe it has already come to pass. After all, vanquish does not mean defeat forever, and it can be easily argued that causing the Dark Lord to be missing for thirteen-plus years easily counts as vanquished. And that he didn't live while I survived."

"That is the common belief among the Unspeakables," Augustus agreed with a nod. "What do you make of the second stanza?"

"I think it's actually rather straightforward," Harry said blandly. "It was my blood that revived Voldemort. The Dursleys are easily viewed as family untrue. I've learned about my Veela heritage and have embraced it. And Britain is going to go to Hell."

"Succinct," Augustus said wryly. "However, that is what we think as well. We have made the presumption that once you have a mate that you intend to leave the Isles and live with the Veela nation."

"I will leave the Isles," Harry said, the first time he had verbally acknowledged that fact to any but his grandfather. "I might not live within the Veela nation, but I will definitely be visiting it a lot."

Augustus nodded in understanding. "It seems clear that the Dark Lord will, if not completely gain supremacy, at least destroy Britain as we know it in the attempt. The only thing that we are uncertain of is the meaning of the line "raised by those who've thrice denied him.""

Harry shrugged and said, "That could mean any number of things. The Dursleys didn't physically abuse me, or sexually, but they did abuse me verbally, emotionally and financially, so you could look at it that way. Or you could say that it's because of how they tried to deny me my heritage by lying to me about how my parents died, refusing to tell me I was a wizard, and trying to keep me from going to Hogwarts. Or you could look at it even more simply than that: there were three of them and they all denied me a place in their family. I don't think it really matters which interpretation you take."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Augustus said sincerely.

"I'm surprised you didn't already know, what with all the articles published by the_ Prophet_," Harry said bitterly.

"As a whole, the Unspeakables take the entire _Daily Prophet _with a pound of salt," Augustus said ruefully.

Harry gave a quick grin, but became serious again and asked, "What about the third stanza."

"We think it's actually rather straightforward," Augustus said, borrowing Harry's earlier words. "You shall bear the future King. The King will be your seventh son, a human, and the only heir to the Potter line. You'll raise him with the Veela and he shall only come to our rescue when it appears all hope is lost."

"And stanza four?" Harry asked intently.

"Some of it we have deciphered," Augustus admitted. "The last line, the dawn of a new era, is self-explanatory, as is that Magic will provide three counselors. We have no idea of the identity of the Tiger who holds the crown." He looked at Harry questioningly.

Harry shook his head. He didn't have any idea either.

"We also don't know who the Wolf's daughter is," Augustus said.

"Remus Lupin's child, perhaps," Harry suggested. "He's the only wolf I know about that's close to me in some way."

"No," Augustus shook his head. "Werewolves are sterile, always."

"Adopted daughter, maybe?" Harry said with a shrug.

Augustus shrugged as well. "Maybe. Or maybe we'll just have to wait and see."

"And the Squirrel?" Harry asked.

"We know who it is," Augustus said, looking at Harry with a strange expression. "It is, in fact, the second reason why the Unspeakables have wanted to meet with you."

Harry blinked in confusion. "What's the first reason?" he asked.

"To inform you that you will bear the new King," Augustus said gently. "To advise you to choose your mate well. Not that you won't," he added quickly. "Just that you need to be aware that you, and your future son, would be best served by choosing a mate who understands that they will be raising the future monarch of magical Britain. Somehow, I don't think that that was in your initial list of requirements."

Harry snorted in amusement and nodded his acknowledgment. "And the second reason? The Squirrel?"

"We need your help to be the go-between between us and the Squirrel," Augustus said intently. "Without a go-between, it will take too much time to convince the Squirrel that we are sincere. Time that we don't have…"

--HPDM--

"So let me get this straight," Neville said, rubbing a hand over his face. "There are a total of one hundred Unspeakables at any given time."

"Right," Harry confirmed.

"And they, as a whole, wanted to speak to you about this prophecy and so they, as a whole, entered the courtships," Neville continued.

"Right," Harry said again.

"And they could because they have some spiffy little spell that fools magic devices about their age and gender," Neville said as he stared at Harry in disbelief.

"Exactly," Harry said.

"And they didn't just make an appointment because?" Neville asked sarcastically.

"Don't know," Harry admitted with a rueful shrug. "Didn't think to ask, actually."

"Right," Neville said tonelessly. "So as of this morning there were thirty-seven still in the running but now they're all going to withdraw because you've talked to one of them. The one who hasn't really been an evil, rotten, Death Eater stuck in Azkaban all this time."

"Yes," Harry said, nodding enthusiastically. "It's great news! I'll be finished with the dates a full three weeks earlier!"

"Right," Neville said, shaking his head slightly. "Congratulations. And all you have to do in return is convince Hermione I-hate-divination Granger that she's this…Squirrel person from some prophecy."

Harry bit his lip lightly. "Well, when you put it that way…"

"But you have to wait for the right time," Neville continued relentlessly. "Only you don't know when that is because they don't know when that is so couldn't tell you. You'll just have to figure it out on your own."

"It's when she assumes authority. And it's supposed to be obvious to me as the go-between," Harry protested a bit weakly.

"Sure it is," Neville said in disbelief. "Because everything having to do with divination is always so obvious."

Harry scowled. "You're supposed to be happy for me," he said. "And supportive."

"Oh, I am," Neville assured, still blinking in shock. "I am happy for you. Thirty-seven suitors gone in one day. Three extra weeks. It's fantastic. Really. I'm very happy for you. And of course I'll support you. But this prophecy… You'll forgive me if I'm a bit stunned that Hermione I'd-rather-stick-my-nose-in-a-book is going to end up being, well, you know…"

"Well, it makes sense the way he explained it," Harry said defensively. "Don't you think?"

"Sure. Of course," Neville agreed blandly. "And I'm fine with the King idea, but there's the whole coming of the apocalypse thing that's got me a bit rattled."

"Surely you realized?" Harry asked seriously. "I thought you understood what would be coming."

"I did, I think," Neville said reluctantly. "It's just that I've been keeping that particular awareness buried as deep as possible. Putting my head in the sand, so to speak."

"You shouldn't do that," Harry said gravely. "You should be taking this time to prepare as much as you can before things really go to Hell."

"Like the Unspeakables," Neville said wearily.

"Yes," Harry agreed with a nod. "I could probably ask them to give you a few pointers," he offered.

Neville laughed bitterly. "I don't need them," he said. "Leave Britain is all I really need to know."

"Where will you go?" Harry asked worriedly.

"I don't know," Neville admitted with a sigh. "Where are you going to go?"

"I don't know," Harry said as well. "Either to France or the home country of my mate."

"Then that's where I'll go," Neville said decisively. "That way we can still see each other often."

Harry smiled in both pleasure and sadness. "I'd like that."

"So," Neville said, perking up slightly in false cheer. "Is there anything we can talk about that doesn't involve mass murder and wanton destruction?"

"Hermione's supposed to help the wanton destruction bit," Harry reminded his friend.

"Sure," Neville said, nodding. "Ten thousand secrets. It's perfect for her. She'll be great at it. So, anything?"

"Well, I've been thinking of starting a petition against Colin Creevey," Harry volunteered.

"Really?" Neville asked in surprise, his agitation completely derailed.

"Yes. I'm tired of him constantly invading my privacy and taking pictures of me," Harry said firmly. "I mean, taking the occasional picture of your classmates to keep as a reminder of your school days is one thing – practically everyone does that – but this constant barrage is something completely different."

"Oh, I agree," Neville said fervently. "He's been after me a lot now, too, ever since the Hufflepuff incident."

"Brat," Harry said, scowling in remembrance of the little Hufflepuff.

"So, this petition," Neville said quickly to distract Harry. "I'd sign it."

"I bet half of Gryffindor would sign it," Harry said with a disgusted snort. "I know there're a lot of people he's been annoying lately. And _I'm_ afraid to even take a piss without checking to see if he's around just waiting for that one _intimate _shot."

"So have you drawn it up yet?" Neville asked.

Harry shook his head.

"Well, let's get to it," Neville said eagerly. "I bet Hermione would help us."

"I bet she'd take us to the library," Harry said wryly.

"Good idea!" Neville said brightly. "Let's go!"

Harry laughed in surprise and followed his friend out of the dorm to find their resident bookworm. Putting off apocalyptic preparations for one more night wouldn't hurt anything.

--end chapter--

prodeo, prodire, prodivi(ii), proditus V INTRANS 6 1 INTRANS XXXAO -go/come forth/out, advance; appear; sprout/spring up; issue/extend/project;


	20. April

**Updated 5/22/08 **- spelling error corrected

A/N: Yes, I suppose last chapter was a bit of a shock/bombshell and I'm sorry if some of you found it disruptive. Still, I wanted to have, well, _more_ than just a Veela fic I suppose, and had to start somewhere. Last chapter is where much of the information wound up. Don't despair, though, this story _**will NOT **__**be war centered**_. There will be more about it, but it will always be "off screen" so to speak.

_The Master Plan_. The story is planned to go through Harry's mating, the birth of his first children (don't worry - I'll warn for it for those of you who have a bit of a squick on mpreg), and the revelation of his heritage. The war and the King and etcetera are in the last chapter – it's meant to be more of an epilogue than a whole other story by itself.

_Voldemort_. Dreadfully important, but not a big part of the narration. I'll talk a bit about him later.

_Remus_. Well, he's another character I'm not enamored with. You'll see why he's "missing" in chapter 30.

_Ron._ You'll see the last of him in chapter 30, also.

_The Wolf_ – You'll have to wait until almost the very end of the last chapter for the Wolf's identity to be confirmed. I think everyone will figure it out less than halfway through, though.

**Chapter 20 – April **

_The Quibbler, Special Addition to April Edition,_ Monday, April 14, 1997

_**Current Count of Suitors: 176**_

_Excerpt from __An Introduction to Veela__, Chapter 12 - The Language – Not Just French_

--April 8--

"Next time I think I'll just fry him. To hell with propriety," Harry mumbled into his grandfather's shoulder, thinking about that morning's incident at Hogwarts.

"That would be acceptable," Robert said as he held his grandson close as they sat cuddled on the couch in the common room of their suite at The Rose Inn.

"I mean, just how many warnings does the little brat need," Harry said in aggravation as he soaked up the comfort being provided.

"One was more than sufficient," Robert said soothingly. "He's a very lucky little brat. I'm certain I would have killed him the first time he insulted me. Or at least maimed him just a little bit."

Harry snorted in amusement and sat up. He smirked at his grandfather and asked, "And how do you maim somebody just a _little _bit?"

"Hmmm, well," Robert said slowly. "Maybe just a _little_ fireball?"

Harry giggled then said with a grin, "I'll see if I can keep that in mind should the little brat shoot off his mouth a third time. "But, Headmaster, it was just a _little _fireball!" I can just see the old man's face."

"He's not giving you problems, is he?" Robert asked seriously.

"No, no," Harry replied, shaking his head. "You know I'd tell you right away. He still watches me every morning, though. Sometime I wonder what he thinks about when he sees me."

"The prophecy you told me about, perhaps," Robert suggested as he rose then pulled his grandson to his feet.

"Maybe," Harry said with a shrug.

Robert smiled slightly then said, "It matters not. He has no say in your life. If we weren't keeping your Veela heritage secret for now, I would simply take you away from there."

"Do you think I made the right choice in that?" Harry asked suddenly. He glanced to the side uncomfortably then looked back at his grandfather with a worried look. "Sometimes I think it was a mistake to hide my heritage. Sometimes I think that I would find a better mate among the circles you frequent, especially given that I'll be frequenting those circles myself once our relationship comes out. Sometimes I think that I eliminated all my best possibilities long before I even started."

Robert clasped his grandson's shoulders and asked softly, "How long have you worried about this? Why have you never said anything?"

Harry looked down a moment before once again meeting his grandfather's eyes. "Ever since about the middle of November," he admitted. "I met so many different types of people from so many walks of life and social classes and I really started to see how differently they could act. I started wondering if I would find a mate that could possibly fit in."

"And why have you not said anything?" Robert asked gently, squeezing Harry's shoulders briefly.

Harry shrugged, or tried to, and looked away in embarrassment. "I thought maybe you would be disappointed. It was me, after all, who was so adamant about keeping it a secret. I thought maybe…"

"Hush," Robert said firmly, giving Harry a small shake. "Hush. I am not disappointed. I wish you had come to me with these fears when they first formed. I would have alleviated them immediately."

Harry looked at his grandfather both in inquiry and hope.

Robert leaned in and waggled his eyebrows comically. "Shall I tell you a secret?"

Harry blinked in surprise but then gave a little smile and nodded eagerly.

"You promise not to get angry with me?" Robert asked lightly.

Harry smiled a little wider and nodded again.

"Hmm, well I'm afraid I must admit to being quite the socialite during September," Robert admitted conspiratorially. "I went to every tea, every business opening, every artistic event, and every party and ball I could squeeze into my schedule."

Harry nodded in understanding but was confused as to the hidden meaning behind his grandfather's words.

Robert smirked and said, "I will have to also admit that I made every effort to ensure that my opinion about your _startling announcement_ was quite clear to all in attendance. How you were a lost child and deserved to know our ways. How your power would bring status to any family that managed to woo you successfully. How _very pleased_ I would be if Harry Potter was mated into the Veela nation."

Harry's eyed widened. "You didn't!"

"Ah, but I did," Robert said, not losing his smirk. "So, you see, quite a number of your Veela and half-Veela suitors have been from the circles you're so worried about." Robert laughed in amusement then before saying, "Not that such efforts made any difference in the end. You have eliminated every single one of the young men you were probably worried about including."

"I have?" Harry questioned in disbelief.

Robert laughed again and gave his grandson a quick hug. "Yes, indeed. I find it quite amusing."

"Well, as long as you're happy," Harry said with a relieved smile.

"No," Robert admonished sternly. "As long as _you_ are happy. This is _your_ mate."

Harry hugged his grandfather, unable to verbalize how much it meant to him that the man was more concerned about Harry's happiness than something, anything, else. It still made him want to cry in gratitude when it was made clear to him that it was _he _who mattered and not some prophecy_, _some vague goal, some ideal public image, or even some personal expectation.

Harry was still in his grandfather's arms when one of the guards knocked on the door and entered.

"Mr. Hathaway has passed inspection," the guard said respectfully.

"Thank you, Julien," Harry said politely. "We'll be out in a minute."

The guard nodded and left.

Harry sighed and leaned into his grandfather. He wasn't looking forward to this morning. Michael Hathaway had a _lot _of negative tick marks in his file for boring gifts and he didn't have high hopes for the man being much better in person.

"Do you feel well enough to venture out today?" Robert asked worriedly as he pulled back and put a hand on his grandson's cheek.

Harry sighed again and leaned his head into his grandfather's hand. "Yes."

"Désespoir…?" Robert started to question then stopped when Harry shook his head.

"It's getting worse," Harry admitted. "But some days are better than others. Today is just…"

"The brat has set you on edge?" Robert asked.

"Yes," Harry said. "Plus, you know, him," Harry waved vaguely towards the sitting room. "He's not very promising."

"Then let us go eliminate him, yes?" Robert said with a small smile.

Harry returned the smile and they both moved towards the door to start the day's courting.

--April 17--

"How did it go, Charlie?" Molly asked eagerly.

"I…don't think so well," Charlie said hesitantly.

"Why not?" Kingsley asked in annoyance. His lack of success in investigating all things Potter was not conducive to a happy attitude at these meetings.

Charlie shifted uncomfortably. He wasn't too happy, either. The thought of having everyone disappointed in him, even though he wasn't to blame, was not reassuring in the slightest. "It seemed to go fine for the most part, but, well, I didn't leave grinning like a lovesick fool, or however Moody put it."

"Probably been eliminated, then," Moody said matter-of-factly.

"Let us not be pessimistic," Albus admonished. "Have you received a dismissal, Charlie?"

"Well, no," Charlie admitted. Reluctantly, he added, "But I think Moody is right."

"What gives you that impression?" Albus asked, hoping that the young redhead was wrong. The less Harry's attachment to the Order and to Britain, the less likely the young man would be willing to shoulder his duties in the coming war. A foreign mate, or even a British mate not devoted to fighting Voldemort would lure Harry away, and that just could not be allowed to happen.

"A few things," Charlie said as he stared at the table trying to figure out what he could say around the secrecy wards. "We went to the preserve to see the dragons. We had several good conversations. He thanked me for a wonderful time. I got the impression I'm going to be eliminated."

"But _why _do you think that?" Molly Weasley asked in agitated dismay. She had really hoped one of her sons would win Harry's hand. She just knew that they were the best family for the boy to join! She already thought of the boy as her own son!

Charlie shifted uncomfortably. What to say? What could he say? "We had several good conversations," he said again. "In the course of those conversations I discovered some of Harry's opinions on several topics. We disagreed on a few and I think those disagreements will get me eliminated."

"What topics?" Hestia asked curiously.

Charlie looked up with a flash of annoyance. Just how many times had it come up in these meetings, not to mention in every other _Prophet _article, that the suitors were being spelled silent about the specifics of their dates? "I can't say," he said.

"Did you talk about him helping defeat You-Know-Who?" Hestia persisted.

"I can't say," Charlie said with a shake of his head.

"So you did!" Hestia crowed triumphantly. "Will he finally stop being so rebellious and start helping win this war?"

"I can't say," Charlie said yet again, this time rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"So does that mean yes or no?" Hestia mused thoughtfully.

"It means he can't say, idiotic woman!" Severus snapped. He turned to Charlie and asked sarcastically. "Did you talk about what pets you want?"

"I can't say," Charlie said with a smirk, glad that someone understood the situation he was in, even if it was the most unpleasant of the Order's members.

"Did you talk about your favorite foods?" Severus asked with sarcasm still strong in his tone.

"I can't say," Charlie answered, his smirk growing wider.

"Did you talk about whether or not the moon will fall to earth and provide cheese for everyone for the next millennium?" Severus asked snidely.

Charlie snorted a laugh and said, "I…"

"…can't say," Hestia finished angrily. "All right, I get it!"

"What can you say?" Albus asked loudly, overriding the angry murmurs of the Order members.

Charlie grimaced and said, "I think I've said everything I can say, really. We met, we went to see the dragons, we talked, we came back. I'm sure I'm going to be eliminated."

"Can you say how many topics of conversation there were on which you disagreed?" Alastor asked curiously. "Not the topics specifically or how you disagreed, just the total number of disagreements you had."

Charlie thought for a moment, counting, and said, "One minor, one medium, and two major disagreements." He seemed surprised that he was able to answer.

"Was the lad polite or angry during the disagreements?" Moody asked intently.

Charlie opened his mouth then closed it with grimace. "I can't say."

The next two hours were filled with Order members asking questions in an attempt to circumvent as much as possible the secrecy ward affecting Charlie Weasley. It was very quickly discovered that the secrecy ward affected non-verbal communication as well in regards to the forbidden topics. Charlie could not nod or shake his head, could not smile or frown, could not raise his eyebrows, grimace, or make any facial expressions, nor could he make hand gestures, wave his arms, or tap his feet in an attempt to answer any question that ventured into forbidden territory.

Not much additional information was gleaned from what Charlie considered an interrogation, but a few nuggets did come to light.

For instance, it was discovered that Charlie's magic still seemed compatible with Harry's – a positive sign as far as many were concerned. Combined with the quick dismissal of some other suitors they knew to be dark wizards, they surmised that at least the boy wasn't going dark.

Charlie was also able to freely discuss the guards and the chaperone – not that that shed any light on anything. Other than the initial inspection – which Charlie could also speak about – the guards were stony-faced and silent. Charlie had detected a French accent during the inspection, which, while a nice confirmation, didn't tell them anything they hadn't already presumed about the guards' nationality. And while the chaperone had been completely silent, not to mention still cloaked and hidden, Charlie had noted this time the high quality of the man's cloak and boots, implying that he was a man of some wealth. Perhaps they might make some progress in identifying the man… Moody had snorted at that idea.

Any place visited or any one or thing seen could be listed. However, Charlie could say only "We saw the Hungarian Horntail that he flew against in the Tri-Wizard Tournament." or "I showed him the small park that we have for the children of the workers." or "We met the head dragon-tamer." Once the questions ventured into what was said or how Harry reacted, however, Charlie could say nothing.

But from what Charlie could and couldn't say, the Order was able to presume certain things. The visit to the residential section of the preserve was thought by Elphias Doge to be Harry looking into the living conditions that his suitor could/would provide. And Severus didn't think that Harry, given his own wealth and the wealth of some of the known suitors, would have been terribly impressed with the accommodations at the preserve. Actually, what he'd said was that the brat would be too snobbish to live in a hut, but everybody knew what he meant.

Alastor Moody, despite having to nominally agree with Severus, felt that the security measures taken supported the position that Harry was looking for a mate that either could provide, or was amenable to, a high-security home environment - which the dragon preserve couldn't support. Thus did Charlie earn a black mark in his courtship of Harry.

It was while the Order was discussing any possible meanings behind the visit to the small flying snake enclosure that the preserve also housed that an owl arrived for Charlie. Charlie displayed the Potter seal on the letter to the Order before breaking the seal and reading the letter.

It was a polite letter, Charlie had to admit, but he was unsurprised to find that it quite firmly stated that he had been eliminated as a suitor. What he _was_ surprised to read was the several paragraphs as to why. His magic compatibility and his views about the rights of magical beings had passed muster. His attitude towards Harry's parseltongue ability had been acceptable. However, there were three major points that had eliminated him.

Harry had indeed been disapproving of Charlie's need to live on the preserve and the lack of a "sufficient and secure" environment in which to live and raise a family. Charlie's unavailability to travel more that a few weeks a year was also unacceptable. Charlie was rather surprised at that, as he, along with the rest of the Order, had presumed Harry's "interest" in travel and foreign cultures had merely been a ruse to attract a foreign mate. And the last reason elaborated upon was their differences in opinion about the coming war.

Unlike Dumbledore and his supporters, Harry felt that the coming war was simply a British civil squabble and was not of international concern. Harry wanted to raise a family in peace and had no interest in helping out a wizarding nation that had done him no favors. Harry also wanted a mate that had a decent life expectancy to provide companionship and a second parent to future children, not one that would be risking their life on a regular basis.

Charlie understood from the letter that even if he had been able to provide the most secure of homes, and been able to travel every day of the year, that their disagreement about the war would have eliminated him. Harry was obviously against any participation in the war. Charlie, however, was very much dedicated to the war effort. He was helping to train the dragons to help wizards guard people and buildings and to possibly provide fighting power. And, should it be necessary, Charlie himself would join in the fighting.

Charlie looked up when he had finished reading the letter and glanced around at the Order members present. Some looked grave and a few amused, but most looked hopeful. He shook his head and the hopeful expressions turned resigned or angry. He tried to speak about the letter and found he couldn't so passed the letter to his father sitting beside him. But Arthur was unable to read the contents. Others tried, including Dumbledore, with the same results.

It was a dejected Order that left their meeting that night.

--HPDM--

"So what does he say about the new book?" Pansy asked curiously from her usual place on Draco's bed once her friend finished reading his weekly thank-you note from Harry Potter.

Draco refolded the note and replaced it in its envelope. "He likes it," Draco said as he rose from his usual place at the small table in his dorm room and stepped over to his bed.

Pansy rolled her eyes and said, "A less pithy answer, if you please."

Draco chuckled as he pulled a small box from his nightstand. He opened the box and placed the new thank-you note alongside its past brothers as he answered. "He likes it very much," he said. "It had never occurred to him that ancient Egyptian jewelry was so stylized and elaborate for any other reason than the aesthetics of the time. He thinks it's amazing that each bead holds importance depending on its shape, size, and placement, not to mention that the types of stones, and how many of each type are in the piece as well as the overall total also hold significance. In short, the complexity of the art fascinates him."

Draco closed the box he'd been holding and replaced it in his nightstand. "Is that a more satisfactory answer, my dear?" he asked as he turned back to his friend.

"Yes, thank you," Pansy said with a smirk. "He's halfway through it, by the way."

"Already?" Draco asked in surprise. "He said he only started it on Saturday."

Pansy nodded. "He's been reading it the last two nights instead of practicing writing hieroglyphs. Maybe you should send him some beads to play with," she suggested facetiously.

Draco heard the joking tone of his friend's words but actually thought about her words seriously. "That might be a good idea," he said slowly as he took a seat on his bed and leaned against the headboard.

"I was _joking_, dear," Pansy said with a little shake of her head. "I hardly think sending him a jewelry making kit is a good idea." Draco silently stared at here for so long that she started to fidget. "What?"

"I think he might like it," Draco said with a frown. Should he change his schedule of gifts a bit? He'd been sending Harry a book once a week since Christmas, starting with a primer on Egyptian hieroglyphs. He was working to fill out Harry's library on ancient Egyptian magic so that the other boy had decent reading material and reference works for the summer holidays. His plan was for Harry to have everything he needed, and then some, to attend the summer program on Egyptian magic that was offered as a month-long intensive course by the Mediterranean Academy of Ancient Magics on the Greek island of Mycenae. He'd already enrolled Harry actually, under the greatest of secrecy, though he'd leave it up to the other boy whether or not to actually attend.

"No, Draco," Pansy said firmly. "Absolutely not. Jewelry-making is a _girl_ thing. And Potter is a _boy._ He might be a submissive but he's still a _boy._ You can't send him girly things."

"I sent him clothes," Draco responded mildly, still thinking over how he might adjust his gifts. Perhaps he should just add to them?

"Clothes do not count," Pansy said stubbornly. "They are perfectly suitable as gifts for either gender."

"I've sent jewelry, too, and bath scents," Draco murmured. "You didn't argue about girly then." He hadn't wanted to overwhelm Harry, which was why he generally sent only one book per week along with the standard box of chocolates. Speaking of which…

"Do you know if he's completed the card collection for the chocolate frogs?" Draco asked curiously, interrupting what Pansy had been saying about appropriate manliness quotients in male jewelry.

Pansy quieted and narrowed her eyes. "You're going to ignore me, aren't you?" she asked in annoyance.

"I've heard everything you've said," Draco replied innocently. "So, do you?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it!" Pansy exclaimed in frustration. "You're going to send him some girly jewelry-making kit, aren't you?"

"I'd like to think that if I could not find something appropriate that I could at least put together a jewelry-making kit myself that had an appropriate manliness quotient," Draco said as solemnly as possible. He wanted to laugh, though, at Pansy's indignation on behalf of a boy she still wasn't sure she liked.

Pansy scowled at her friend. She could tell he wanted to laugh about her protests and was doing his best to not. She released a frustrated and resigned sigh. Well, this wouldn't be the first time that Draco had held in his immediate reaction to something she had said and likely it wouldn't be the last. A wave of gratitude suddenly filled her at that thought. Draco had long been conscientious about how he treated her and this was just the most recent example of his devotion to her. She smiled slightly at her friend, letting him see her gratitude and affection.

Draco raised an inquiring eyebrow at Pansy's sudden shift in mood but smiled back with equal affection.

"He's missing Frau Blücher," Pansy said, answering Draco's original question. "Otherwise, yes, his collection is complete. How could it not be? You've sent him seven hundred chocolate frogs so far. Fifty a week adds up quickly, you know, and the set only has a hundred cards in it. In fact, he's making a second set, but it's missing over twenty cards."

"What's he doing with the others?" Draco asked curiously. Two complete sets still left 500 duplicate cards, after all.

"He's trading them for British sets," Pansy said easily. "He's made a complete frog set, in fact. The cat set is about half complete, the bird set is missing thirty or so cards, the fish set is missing about twenty and the rabbit set is missing only six."

Draco shook his head in amused disbelief. "I'll never understand how you learn all the stuff you know."

Pansy smirked and said, "The Patil twins are closet card collectors."

Draco chuckled. "Of course they are. And I know they're your biggest spies."

"Yes, indeed," Pansy agreed cheerfully.

Draco nodded thoughtfully. "I'll have to switch to chocolate birds then," he said, already composing in his head the letter to his great-grandmother requesting the change.

"Not yet," Pansy cautioned. "I'll let you know when, all right?"

"Sure," Draco said with a small smile.

"Now tell me why you think Potter is going to like a girly present," Pansy demanded. She'd been wrong a couple times before about Potters reactions to Draco's presents. This time she wanted to understand her friend's reasoning before she made too many objections.

Draco chuckled at his friend's persistence. "I think he might like the practical aspect of it," he said as he stretched out his legs, careful not to disturb Pansy's books and papers. "He might think it a novel idea, taking up some sort of craft hobby."

Pansy gave her friend a dubious look. "I think you should just stick with the books. He has been reading them fairly diligently, after all. He won't have time to take up a hobby."

"Maybe so," Draco said then frowned. "You don't think that I'm getting too boring by giving him the same thing every week?"

"No," Pansy said firmly. "In fact, I think he likes the predictability. Isn't that what you told me at Christmas? That your intention was to give him some stability in his destabilizing world?"

Draco's eyes widened slightly. "I can't believe I forgot about that," he said with a grimace. That had indeed been his intention.

"That's why you have me around," Pansy said smugly.

"Thank you," Draco said with only slight roll of his eyes at his friend's attitude.

"So no girly gifts," Pansy declared.

"No new gifts," Draco conceded obligingly.

Pansy nodded then turned serious and asked, "If you do win his hand, what will happen to me?"

"You'll be married the way you keep going on about Longbottom," Draco said with a half-amused, half-exasperated huff.

"I'm serious, Draco," Pansy said, her worry turning her voice sharp. "Potter doesn't like me much. And on top of that, I don't think he would want _me_ around when he's trying to start a family with _you_."

"I think you're wrong about that," Draco said mildly. "Harry prizes family greatly and he would accept you. It may be by magic instead of blood, but you are still my…"

"But he doesn't like me!" Pansy exclaimed angrily. She was worried about her future with Draco should he succeed in his suit. He was the most important person in her life and she didn't want to lose him.

"He doesn't _know _you," Draco said firmly. "_When _I win his hand, I'm sure he'll be willing to give you the same chance he gave me."

"Well, aren't you just full of confidence," Pansy said sarcastically.

"It's the only way to be," Draco said piously. "Now finish your homework."

Pansy rolled her eyes but did drop the subject. "Yes, Dad."

--end chapter--

A/N: I have to take my DH's word on this as I've never been a card collector, but… I'm assured that having only one nearly complete set of collector cards after having received/purchased seven hundred of them is quite realistic. In fact, still having _several_ of the rarer cards missing after having received/purchased a _thousand_ was actually quite likely. Such assurance was then followed by a less than polite epithet against the makers of said cards…


	21. Martin Goyle

A/N: _Cookies to OccAmy Phyre _who figured out a bit about Lily's parentage back in chapter 14.

_Cookies to rotsapv _who got my movie reference. Neigh!

I admit to using this date to give more information about our main suitor so some of you may be disappointed. Ah, well… It's still an interesting chapter. I think, anyway. And the information is important later.

_Colin Creevey_. He will get his next chapter – nothing too, too drastic.

A bit of Veela-ness here, but more Veela-ness and fireballs next chapter!

**Chapter 21 – Goyle**

--May 3--

The good natured squabbling between Dean and Seamus ended abruptly upon the screech that issued from the direction of Harry's bed. The subsequent groans galvanized the two boys into action and they quickly grabbed their clothes and left for the showers without another word. Neither boy felt any remorse whatsoever in leaving Neville behind to deal with…whatever is was that was bothering Harry this morning.

Neville watched his dorm-mates leave with alacrity and could only thank Merlin that Ron had already left. At least he didn't have to deal with the redhead in addition to Harry's entry into stage two of Désespoir. He quickly cast a few cleansing charms on himself in lieu of a shower and donned his clothes for the day. He dug out a dozen Honey Humps from his trunk then sat on his bed to wait for a bit. He'd give Harry ten minutes before approaching…

"I'd like my candy now," Harry said seven and a half minutes later.

Neville snorted but obediently brought the candies over to where Harry still lay in his bed. "Are you going to sit up?"

"No," Harry said, gritting his teeth and holding out a hand demandingly. "I feel like the bloody Hogwarts Express ran me over. Just give me some sugar."

Neville unwrapped one of the candies and placed it in Harry's hand. He watched as Harry made quick work of the honey treat and gave him another and another and another. When he was handing the fifth candy to Harry he asked, "Mind if I sit?"

Harry nodded and waved a hand vaguely so Neville took a seat on Harry's bed. It was after Harry had finished his eighth candy that he finally sat up with a heavy sigh. "Damn, but I feel like crap."

"At least it's not a Sunday this time," Neville said with a small smile.

A disgusted snort was the only reply Harry deigned to give.

Neville fed Harry another two candies before he asked, "Are you going to be able to go out today?"

"I have to," Harry said around his candy. "I can't afford to lose any time."

"You have those extra three weeks," Neville reminded his friend.

"Which I'm grateful for because I'm going to need them to make round four easier," Harry said in agitation. "I really need to go out today."

"You want to have breakfast in the kitchens?" Neville offered as he passed over another candy.

"Can't," Harry said as he unwrapped the treat. "Mail."

"I could collect it for you. Or Hermione could," Neville said. "You don't get much anymore and Nichol isn't due today."

Harry grunted noncommittally as he sucked on his candy. That was a tempting offer, actually. Merlin knew the littlest thing would probably set him off today. Going to the kitchens for breakfast was probably the best solution. He nodded as he put out a hand for the last candy Neville was holding.

Neville dropped the candy in Harry's hand and stood up. "I'm just going to go let Hermione know, all right. I'll be back in a few minutes then we'll go have a nice, quiet, uh…" he trailed off thinking about how the house elves weren't actually quiet.

Harry snorted a small laugh but waved his friend off.

Neville left the dorm and Harry flopped back onto his bed with a groan. Why couldn't this have happened _yesterday_? _Yesterday_ he wasn't scheduled for an afternoon meeting with a Death Eater, and a Death Eater thug at that. Then he perked up slightly. Perhaps his increased sensitivity due to the degeneration of his magic would cause the man to be summarily eliminated. Of course, with his luck, his magic's desperation would be more likely to make him want to mate with the man immediately upon meeting him. He sighed in resignation and stood to get ready for the day.

--Goyle--

Harry was pacing agitatedly in the common room of their suite at The Rose Inn. That morning's date had _not _gone well. The man had refused to accept the fact that he was going to be eliminated for magic incompatibility and had opted to continue the date. _Then_ the man had touched him several times as they sat side-by-side watching a matinee. It was so bad that he'd had to have Julien change seats with him just so he could be protected from the man's groping. By the time the date was over he was entirely disgusted with the man's boorish behavior and highly agitated due to the repetitive assaults on his magic. He'd almost fried the man. Compounded with having just entered the second stage of Désespoir…. Well, he was a very unhappy Veela right now.

And a Death Eater was next! Merlin save him!

Harry turned at the knock on the door and watched, scowling, as Julien entered the room. "Mr. Goyle has passed inspection," the guard said deferentially.

Harry snorted and turned away. "Of course he did," he murmured disgustedly. "I would never be so lucky."

"We'll be out in a few moments, Julien," Robert said softly. Once the guard had left, Robert approached his grandson. "Would you like to cancel the date? No one would blame you."

"_He_ would," Harry denied in agitation. "And you know why I don't want to do that unless absolutely necessary."

"This could easily be considered necessary," Robert argued. "And if he protests it makes a good reason to eliminate him."

Harry groaned. "I'd rather not. Let's just go meet the Death Eater thug and get this over with."

"If you are certain," Robert said reluctantly.

Harry released a deep sigh and squared his shoulders. "I'm certain," he said.

Robert nodded and pulled up the hood of his cloak. A few moments later he followed his grandson out to the sitting room.

"Good afternoon," Martin Goyle said pleasantly. "I hope you are well."

"Good afternoon," Harry replied with a small forced smile. "And I've had better days. Yourself?"

"I am well. Thank you for asking," Martin said. "Do you need to reschedule?"

Harry blinked in surprise. He'd certainly not expected such solicitousness from a Death Eater. "I don't know," he said softly. "Let's see." He held out a hand expectantly.

Martin took the two steps needed to close the gap between them and grasped Harry's hand firmly.

Harry closed his eyes briefly in both surprise and pleasure. Martin's magic felt nice, very nice, and soothing. He released Martin's hand reluctantly and opened his eyes. "No, we can continue," he said softly, feeling slightly more in control after encountering such soothing magic.

"If you are certain," Martin said with concern.

Harry smiled in amusement at the unknowing repetition of his grandfather's words. "I'm certain."

Martin nodded then held out a smallish bag. "This is for you. It's for you to wear today."

Harry accepted the bag and peeked at its contents curiously. Not being able to discern anything other than it contained clothes of some sort, he looked at his date questioningly.

In reply, Martin opened his robes to show off an outfit comprised of a tank top and Bermuda shorts. Brightly patterned Bermuda shorts, at that.

Harry opened his mouth to ask just where they were going then snapped it shut on the hysterical giggle that wanted to escape instead.

"I thought I might share my hobby with you," Martin explained. "I like to collect shells. While many shells are collected in not so hospitable locations, many may be found along the beaches of the Atlantic. The portkey shall take us to a nice sunny beach in southern Florida. It will only be morning there and so I've included a warm sweatshirt to counteract the cool ocean breezes."

Harry was silent for several moments, then nodded and turned without a word to reenter the common room. His grandfather followed him in and when the door was once again closed he collapsed into helpless, hysterical giggles.

"Harry?" Robert asked in concern.

Harry shook his head and gasped out, "Did you…see those shorts? I just…the big bad Death Eater…wearing Bermuda shorts!" Harry continued to laugh.

"They were a bit bright," Robert said with his own chuckle.

"No, no, I'm here to torture you, ignore the bright pink and yellow flowers," Harry said grandly before once again falling into peals of laughter.

Harry eventually regained control and was only snickering slightly as he ventured again into the bag Martin had given him. He pulled out a light green tank top and a pair of, thankfully, plain dark green Bermuda shorts. He also pulled out the promised sweatshirt (in dark green), a potion, a bag, and what looked like plastic sandals. The potion label read "Sally's Sun Soother – protects against sun exposure – 4 hour elixir." The directions said to drink it so he pulled the top and sniffed the contents dubiously. He was shocked that the concoction smelled of coconuts and even more surprised when it also _tasted _like coconuts.

He dismissed the oddity of a good-tasting potion from his mind and changed into the provided clothes. When it came to the sandals, however… "Are these plastic?" he asked his grandfather in confusion. They were transparent like plastic, but they didn't _feel _like plastic…

Robert took one of the sandals and examined it briefly. "It looks like jellyfish," he said as he handed it back.

"What?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"Jellyfish make the best inner-soles for shoes," Robert said matter-of-factly. "They are comfortable and durable. Most well-made shoes, like those boots you're so fond of, have jellyfish inner-soles. They also make excellent beach shoes because of their ability to make you feel like you are walking barefoot but still offer protection from sharp rocks and other debris."

Harry could only stare as he held the sandal in one hand. "You mean these are made from _real _jellyfish? Ocean-swimming, long-tentacled, transparent, formerly-living _jellyfish_?"

"Of course," Robert said with a small smile, understanding now the source of his grandson's confusion and amazement. "Just put them on and worry about where they came from and how they were made at some later time."

Harry blinked his astonishment for several long moments before following his grandfather's advice. He wiggled his toes then stood and took several steps before deciding that he liked the feel of the sandals, even knowing where they came from. He nodded to his grandfather, picked up the bag that he presumed was to hold his collected shells, and the two of them rejoined the others in the sitting room.

Martin looked at Harry appraisingly and Harry quirked an amused smile at the man's blatant interest. "I've never worn anything quite like this," he said wryly.

"You look fantastic," Martin said with a return smile. He was not the least bit ashamed at having been caught gazing. "Do you mind if I leave my robe here?"

Harry shook his head slightly. "Please feel free," he said. He watched as his date shrugged off his robe, folded it over, and placed it on the small table. Martin turned back to face him and Harry was surprised to see that the Dark Mark was easily visible. He glanced at it and raised his eyebrows.

"I will cover it if you wish," Martin said calmly.

"That's not necessary," Harry said with a small shrug. "I was well aware before this meeting that you had sworn allegiance to Voldemort. I'm just surprised that you aren't trying to hide it."

"This Mark denotes my master, not my allegiances," Martin said with quiet intensity.

Harry studied Martin carefully. The man had just essentially claimed that he wasn't loyal to Voldemort. Given the man's expression, Harry was inclined to believe him. He nodded once in acknowledgement and asked, "Shall we go, then?"

Martin nodded and held out a two-foot long piece of hemp rope.

Harry watched the others grasp a section and was about to also touch the portkey when he paused. "Don't you need a sweatshirt?"

"No, Mr. Potter," Martin said with a small smile. "I like the cold ocean air on my skin."

"Oh, all right," Harry said and grasped an empty section of rope. "Please call me Harry."

"Florida," Martin said firmly and the party was whisked into the twisting maelstrom of magic.

When the twisting stopped several seconds later, Harry was sprawled gracelessly in the sand of their destination. He groaned as he sat up and started brushing sand from his face. "I hate portkeys. No matter what I try, I can't land on my feet."

Martin chuckled slightly and held out a hand. "It's because you're too powerful," Martin said.

Harry grasped the offered hand and accepted the help regaining a standing position. "What do you mean?" Harry asked curiously.

"The more power you hold the worse it is for you to travel by portkey," Martin explained. "A portkey has very little of its own magic; it is merely a destination keyed into a parasitic artifact. A portkey taps into the magic of those holding it and forces their magic to transport them to the keyed location. The more powerful you are, the more your magic resists being forcibly commandeered. And, unfortunately, the greater the resistance of a person's magic, the worse the landing will be for them. It's the same with anything that tries to guide your magic along a specified path, whether or not you are willing."

Harry stared at Martin for a moment before saying, "That explain so many things."

"There are some benefits to this," Martin offered. He tugged slightly on Harry's hand and the two started walking towards the water hand-in-hand. He was surprised that Harry allowed the continued contact and wondered if he found the contact soothing. That led Martin to wonder just how badly the young man was being affected by his degenerating magic.

"Like what?" Harry asked curiously as he finally took note of their surroundings. The beach they were on was nearly deserted. Given the wands he could see, and the fact that they'd arrived out in the open for anyone to notice, he surmised that this was a wizard-only beach. The water they were walking towards was about 200 feet away. And he finally noticed that it was, indeed, quite cold.

"Nobody can apparate you if you're unwilling," Martin answered. "This makes kidnapping attempts a bit more difficult."

"What if I'm unconscious?" Harry asked, watching the waves in fascination. He'd seen lakes and rivers, but never before had he seen the ocean in person. That little trip to the rundown hut before Hagrid had come didn't really count - it was dark and he hadn't had a chance to simply stare at the water.

"Your magic never sleeps," Martin said with a glance at Harry. "Generally, a person's magic views _unconscious_ the same as _unwilling_."

Harry looked at Martin in surprise. "Really? How interesting. I suppose my kidnappers would need to use a portkey, then, and I doubt they'd care if I landed gracefully," he said wryly.

Martin chuckled. "True. But I wouldn't be surprised if you could resist a portkey as well if you put your mind to it. It _is_ possible and your arrival difficulties imply that you would be able to do so."

"I'll have to try that," Harry said in surprise. What fascinating things he learned on these dates… "So, where are we exactly and how do we find these shells?"

The next hour was filled with a beginner's lesson in shell collecting. Harry listened attentively as Martin explained about his hobby and accepted some of the shells the man picked up and passed to him. He found some of his own shells, too, as they slowly meandered in and out of the waves. He had collected several pretty specimens, some whole and some not, when Martin changed the subject abruptly.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked me about this," he said waving to his Mark. "And about what I implied at the hotel regarding my allegiances."

"I admit I'm curious," Harry said as he looked up from evaluating the orangey shell he was holding. "I would have asked eventually, but since you brought it up now I guess I'll go ahead and ask. What exactly are your beliefs in regards to magical beings and muggle-borns?"

Martin smiled bitterly and passed Harry a smooth mottled-brown shell. "My beliefs are very simple and are adequately summarized by the phrase: To each their own."

Harry admired the intact shell he'd been given and placed it in his little bag. "I don't think I understand," he said.

Martin returned his attention to the sands and said, "Basically, I don't believe that the magical and non-magical worlds should mix. Magical animals do not mate with their non-magical counterparts. The same should hold true for magical beings. Wizards should not mate with muggles."

Harry bent down to pick up a shell that caught his eye then tossed it into the ocean once he saw that it was broken. "What about kneazles?"

"What about them?" Martin asked, looking up from where he'd been digging in the sand.

"They crossbreed with regular cats," Harry said. "One of my friends has a crossbreed as her pet."

Martin shook his head as he stood, abandoning his rapidly filling hole in the sand. "Then her pet is the result of a forced breeding. Likely a captive female kneazle in heat was mated with a regular tomcat. If far enough into her heat, a female kneazle is unable to refuse a non-magical tomcat. In the wild, however, such a pairing would never have occurred."

"Is the same true for all magical animals?" he asked curiously. Despite having taken three years of Care of Magical Creatures, this particular topic had never been covered.

"Yes," Martin said firmly as he looked at Harry. "In fact, it's only wizards that go against the natural order of things and mate with muggles. No other race of sentient beings will do so."

"What about Veelas?" Harry asked.

"They don't mate with muggles," Martin said in surprise. "I would have figured you knew that. A muggle man cannot impregnate a Veela submissive and a muggle woman cannot carry to term a halfling child of any non-human race."

"So I've heard," Harry said blandly. "And yet, my mother was muggle-born."

Martin examined Harry's expression and thought he saw a bit of a challenge in the bright green eyes hiding behind the mask of polite interest. He smiled in acceptance of the unspoken challenge and said, "Your grandmother was an untrained muggle-born witch who obviously wasn't enamored enough with her husband to remain faithful."

Harry smiled insincerely. "I always do like to hear what theory my suitors subscribe to in regards to how my mother and I received our Veela inheritance."

Martin smiled grimly in return and knew that what he would say next would inspire a great number of questions, questions for which he'd been given authorization to answer. In fact, he'd been approached and asked to specifically ensure that Harry Potter learned certain things. He had his suspicions about why that might be, but had not questioned the request.

"Rebecca Marie Evans nee Lancaster received her Hogwarts letter on the seventh of July in the year 1955. Her parents, John and Victoria, were devout Christians who reacted negatively to being informed that their daughter was a witch and forbade her attendance at Hogwarts. Tired of her parents' vicious attempts to exorcise the demons out of her, Rebecca married very young. She was barely fourteen when she married Peter and was fourteen still when her first child, Petunia, was born in 1958 and only sixteen when her second child, Lily, was born in 1960. When she was seventeen she was again offered magical training. She considered it, but declined in favor of raising her two daughters."

Harry was speechless for nearly a full minute as he stared at Martin Goyle in utter amazement. When he finally regained his faculties, he said softly, "You have very interesting information."

Martin nodded. "I have sources not available to the general public, either wizard or muggle. If you like, I can arrange what documentation is available about your grandmother to be sent to you."

"I'd like that," Harry murmured. "Where… No. Nevermind. I'd like that, please. Let's get back to the topic. So, you don't feel wizards and muggles should mix. Is that why you joined Voldemort? And if you're not loyal to him, to whom _are_ you loyal?"

"All of those answers are actually intertwined," Martin said. He gestured slightly then and said, "Let us keep walking while I answer them."

Harry nodded warily but once again began his wandering search for pretty shells.

They walked and searched in silence for nearly a minute before Martin said, "My most immediate loyalty is to Lucius Malfoy. As Lucius joined Voldemort, I joined Voldemort. It was, and remains, my duty to protect him to the best of my abilities."

"Your duty," Harry repeated with mild curiosity as he picked up a starfish and tossed it back into the ocean.

Martin glanced over then turned his eyes back to the sand and water. "Yes," he said. "My duty. Mine and Clement Crabbe's. Just as it is our sons' duty to protect Draco Malfoy. Just as it is my great-uncle's and Clement's grandfather's duty to protect Gaius Malfoy, the current Malfoy Head. Just as it is the duty of every Goyle and Crabbe to protect every Malfoy. Such has been our duty since our families swore fealty to the Malfoy family. We protect and guard as per the oath of vassals our forefathers' took nearly 100 years ago."

"What kind of vassals are you?" Harry asked curiously. Due to some of his studies in the past couple of summers he was well aware that there were several different oaths that the families could have taken.

"Full vassals," Martin replied. "And the oath is renewed by each generation upon their fourteenth birthday."

Harry blinked in surprise. "That's... unusual," he said.

Martin chuckled slightly. "Yes."

"And…are you happy with that?" Harry asked in bemusement.

Martin looked Harry in the eyes and said, "I'm not pleased with some of Lucius' choices, but gladly do I serve the Malfoy family."

Harry stared at Martin for several moments. "Why?" he asked, truly curious. Most modern wizards felt that fealty oaths were archaic and held no place in modern wizarding life.

Martin glanced briefly at the guards and chaperone and asked, "Are the others spelled for secrecy?"

Harry blinked in surprise and said, "The guards are, yes, but not my chaperone. Still, he is trustworthy if that's what you're worried about."

Martin nodded and said, "Then I will tell you a bit about my family history and why we owe our very existence to the Malfoys."

"All right," Harry said agreeably and stooped to pick up a smoothed rock.

"Entry into Hogwarts used to be handled much differently than it is today," Martin started explaining. He kept an eye on Harry as he was curious as to what the young man's reaction would be. "When a child turned eleven, Hogwarts would send a representative and explain everything _to the child._ It was then the _child's _choice whether or not to attend Hogwarts or to stay in the Muggle world. All muggle-born children, even those with supportive families, feel isolated and different as they grow up. As you can imagine, finding out that there was a reason for these feelings made most children eager to attend Hogwarts. It was a very rare child who chose to remain in the muggle world."

Harry listened in fascination. Why were things like this never covered in History of Magic?

"When the children were introduced to wizarding society, a request was sent out to the wealthier families for one of them to sponsor the child. The sponsor family would then take responsibility for the child's welfare and education. The family paid any expenses, such as textbooks and school fees, that the muggle family couldn't or wouldn't. Sometimes the sponsors provided a stipend for the child to spend as they wished. The sponsor's most important role, however, was to teach the child about the wizarding world and provide a safe summer home should the child not wish to return to the muggle world for the summer."

For several moments Harry felt a blinding jealousy of those children who'd had the chance to escape abusive situations such as the one he'd been in. That jealousy turned to anger at all those who had caused that law to be changed. "Why don't they do it that way anymore?" Harry asked through gritted teeth. "I think it could still be beneficial."

"Of course you do," Martin said sadly. "If rumors are to be believed, you didn't have a good childhood in the muggle world. It makes a great deal of sense to you."

Harry nodded but said nothing.

"In 1885 a faction in the Wizengamot started making noises about how it was wrong to let a child make such a life-changing decision. They said it was the right and responsibility of the parents to make that decision. They said it was wrong to take children from their families without so much as a by-your-leave." Martin snorted in disgust. "Their petty little minds wanted to overturn a practice that had been working successfully for nearly a thousand years all because of some misplaced sympathies."

Harry echoed the snort. Morons. He could already see where this story was heading. "Do you know if the Potters supported this faction?"

Martin nodded. "They did."

"Wonderful," Harry said with a grimace. Never before had he been ashamed of his father's family. But this…

"This was the beginning of the schism between _light _and _dark_ families," Martin explained. "The _light _families…"

"Supported the change," Harry interrupted. "And the so-called dark ones didn't. I get it."

"Yes," Martin said, taking no offense at Harry's anger. "The Malfoy family headed the faction that was against the changes and for five years there was a stalemate in the Wizengamot."

"And then…?" Harry asked leadingly.

"Then Octavian Malfoy died," Martin answered. "He was only fifty-five and so his death was completely unexpected and there was no one to take his place as leader of the faction he had created to oppose the _muggle-lovers,_ as he called them. His brothers and son were not nearly as charismatic as he was. And so, in 1890, the _muggle-lovers _held power and the law was changed."

"Was he murdered?" Harry asked. "You know, political intrigue and all."

"No," Martin shook his head. "He died in a riding accident on the Malfoy estates amongst many familial witnesses. There was no foul play. It truly was an accident."

"So let me guess," Harry said as he tossed a rejected shell into the waves a little harder than necessary. "The new law sentenced hundreds of children to abuse and neglect when their parents refused to let them attend Hogwarts."

"Or worse," Martin said sadly.

Harry looked over in surprise then shuddered in realization. "Merlin. They were murdered, weren't they?"

"My great-grandfather would have considered murder a blessing," Martin said grimly. "As it was, he was subject to all the cruelty his parents, siblings, former friends, fellow villagers, and local church could heap upon him."

"I'm sorry," Harry said softly. His own trials with the Dursleys seemed completely insignificant now.

"My ancestor, John, was one of the first people affected by this new law," Martin continued. "He went from being the favored son of a well-off merchant family to a maltreated slave, all in the righteous attempt to drive the demons from him, of course."

"Of course," Harry muttered. Merlin, he felt like being sick right here on the sand.

"And now you will understand why John swore fealty and why each generation is happy to reaffirm his choice," Martin said.

"They rescued him?" Harry asked hopefully. "The Malfoys rescued John?"

"Yes and no," Martin said as he started digging another hole in the sand. "Once Octavian died and the law was passed, the remaining family looked at what could be done and found a loophole in the law. You see, the Ministry put a spell on each child after the parent's refusal that kept wizards from contacting the child and monitored any magic in the child's vicinity. The spell was specifically added to the law to keep the opposing faction from interfering. But the spell had two limitations. The first was that it only functioned until the child's majority."

"Seventeen," Harry murmured.

Martin nodded. "The second limitation was that the spell would not _start _being effective until the next morning. So there was a window of opportunity of several hours, a window the Malfoy family exploited to its fullest."

"How?" Harry asked as he watched Martin pull a shell up from the sand and wash it in the surf. "They obviously didn't kidnap the children right away or else John wouldn't have suffered."

"No, they didn't take the children," Martin said as he washed the shell he'd just found. "They couldn't. One of the other spells cast on the children was a magical tether. The tether required the child to be within two hundred feet of a parent for at least eight hours each day. Officially, the tether kept the child from being kidnapped by the opposing faction even if they found a way around the repellant spell, which they did because it's not too difficult if you know what you're doing. In practical use, however, the tether tied children to bad situations and kept them from running away. Trying to break the tether would have endangered the Malfoy family and any help they could provide the affected children would have been curtailed."

"So what did they do instead?" Harry asked as he accepted the newly washed shell.

"What they did, and still do, is three things," Martin said. "They arrange an account with a local vendor to provide the child with sufficient food should they ever need it. If possible, they also arrange alternate housing. This often isn't possible since the housing has to be both unwarded and within two hundred feet of the parents' home. The last thing they do is explain about the law and its loopholes and tell the child how to contact them when the child turns seventeen. They tell the children that if they can survive until then, the Malfoy family will take them in and teach them."

"And your ancestor survived," Harry said as he put away his new shell and picked up another smoothed rock. A moment later he tossed it into the ocean.

"Yes," Martin said. He moved several feet to the left and started digging another hole. "The day he turned seventeen he sent an owl to the Malfoys and at dawn the next morning he was taken to the Malfoy estate. Eventually, the Malfoys created a separate estate to see to the needs of these children, but they hadn't yet at that time."

"And they taught him magic," Harry said.

"Among the normal things a sponsor is supposed to teach," Martin replied. "When John finished his education seven years later, he insisted on swearing fealty even though it wasn't required, nor even encouraged. Most of his schoolmates did the same. He then went into service as a personal guard and such has been the occupation of my family since. The same is true of the Crabbe family. We serve together in these positions because the first of our families, John and Matthew, became blood brothers and our two families continue to work well together."

Harry was quiet for several minutes as he digested the story he'd just been told and its implications. He found another shell to keep before he spoke again. "They did…do this with all muggle-borns?"

"All muggle-borns whose parents or guardians refuse to allow them to attend Hogwarts," Martin confirmed as he let the sea fill in the unprofitable hole he had dug.

"Then I imagine yours and Crabbe's aren't the only families to have sworn fealty to the Malfoys," Harry said, flipping over a large piece of wood with one foot.

"Indeed not," Martin said with a chuckle. "In fact, most students the Malfoys take in swear fealty, though about fifty years ago the Malfoys started requiring the person swearing fealty to be at least thirty-four. In other words, the person must have had ten years on their own before they make that decision."

"But you said you re-affirmed yours at fourteen," Harry protested.

"Any new oath-takers," Martin amended as he picked up a shell. "There is a difference between taking a new oath and re-affirming an old one."

"And how many swear fealty?" Harry asked. That was potentially quite a number of vassals the Malfoys had.

"Nine out of ten will swear fealty, despite the delay," Martin answered. "They recognize, as John did, just how much worse their life could have been were it not for the Malfoys' intervention."

"And how many is that, exactly?" Harry pressed.

Gregory smiled and handed another shell to Harry. "Do you know how many muggle-borns are in your year?"

"Seven," Harry said promptly as he accepted the shell and looked it over before putting it in his bag.

"Really?" Martin said in amazement. "That's quite a lot. Usually there are only four, give or take. There are only two amongst this year's incoming students."

Harry shrugged. "And?"

"Do you know how many there used to be every year before the law changed?" Martin asked.

"No," Harry said. Of course he didn't. Binns rarely talked about anything other than goblins.

"A dozen," Martin said simply. "There are always an even dozen wizards and witches born to muggles every year and most of them used to go to Hogwarts."

"A dozen?" Harry said with interest. "Consistently?"

"Yes, though nobody understands why," Martin said. "But as you can see, even in your year five of the muggle-borns are missing."

"Will they go to the Malfoys?" Harry asked, stepping over a strand of seaweed.

"Yes," Martin said as he followed Harry. "Some of them already have, in fact."

"So what you're saying," Harry began thoughtfully, "is that for the past nearly one hundred years the Malfoy family has been gaining eight families of vassals a year, give or take."

"About that," Martin said.

"That's a lot of people," Harry said seriously.

"Yes," Martin agreed.

"Well, I imagine the Malfoys have contacts nearly everywhere, then," Harry said in amusement.

Martin chuckled. "Yes. And it's even worse than you think because many of the vassals leave England. Some leave because they have too many bad memories here. Some leave because they don't feel they can live under a Ministry that allowed what happened to them. And some leave simply to protect the Malfoys, so that the secret doesn't get out that the abandoned muggle-borns have been receiving training from someone else."

"A ready-made international network of contacts," Harry said. He couldn't imagine what kind of information the Malfoy family had access to with those kinds of resources.

"Exactly," Martin said.

"So…so…you don't hate muggle-borns," Harry concluded, trying desperately to once again get an answer to his questions.

"No," Martin said. "I think the current policies have left them woefully undereducated, but I certainly don't hate them."

"Muggles?" Harry asked curiously.

Martin shrugged indifferently. "I don't hate them universally, though there are quite a number I'd like to see fed to the Dark Lord. The ones that have denied their children their birthright, for instance, I'd love to see dead."

Harry made a noncommittal sound. He rather agreed with the sentiment but thought it best not to actually say so. "What about Lucius?"

"Lucius is…," Martin sighed. "Lucius suffers from delusions of persecution and takes out his anger on anybody he can get away with. His hatred of muggles and muggle-borns is simply an extension of his feelings of isolation from his family."

"And his son takes after Daddy," Harry said. He didn't believe that _now_, of course, but he wasn't above fishing for information about one of his favorite suitors.

"Actually, Draco takes after his great-grandfather Gaius," Martin said as he dropped the broken shell he had just picked up. "He has strong ideals and is rather even-tempered."

"That's hard to believe," Harry said with a snort.

"Draco is in a very precarious position until he turns seventeen," Martin said seriously. "I won't tell you exactly why, but various laws that favor Lucius require Draco to not anger his father overly much until he can stand on his own as a man. I think you'll find that next year Draco will be an entirely different person at school."

"We'll see," Harry said with contrived doubt, all the while burning with curiosity over Draco's _position_.

"Yes," Martin said and held out a hand. "There's a small restaurant just behind those trees. Would you like to eat?"

Harry placed his hand in Martin's and visibly relaxed. "I am a bit hungry," he said. They walked in silence as Harry thought about everything he'd been told. "Martin?"

"Yes?" Martin asked encouragingly.

"Who led the opposing faction?" Harry asked.

Martin smiled at Harry in amusement. "Can't you guess?"

"Dumbledore?" Harry asked.

"Close," Martin allowed. "They were big supporters, but no, they weren't the original driving force."

Harry shrugged and shook his head.

"Who do the Malfoys hate?" Martin hinted.

Harry's eyes widened. "Oh. Oh. Really?"

"Yes," Martin said with a nod. "Until the law is repealed, the Malfoys have promised that the Weasleys will live just as miserably as the children they have condemned."

Harry gripped Martin's hand hard as they continued walking towards the copse of trees that hid the café. He was horrified that the Weasleys he knew were paying such a harsh sentence for the sin of an ancestor, but, given his own experiences, and what he now knew about the plight of muggle-borns, he couldn't find it within himself to protest.


	22. Breakdown & Fallout

A/N: More Veela-ness! And fireballs!

_Cookies to njferrell_ for inspiration on an addition in this chapter. I hope this answers your questions about Conway.

If you find a spelling/grammar/punctuation error, please feel free to point out where/what. I am happy to fix these. Three sets of eyes have been over this story - more than once - but I'm not surprised that some things fell through the cracks anyway.

**Chapter 22 – Breakdown & Fallout**

Hermione looked up as someone tapped her shoulder. "Yes, Neville?" she asked the concerned looking boy.

"Have you seen Harry since he said he was going to go walk about the castle?" Neville asked worriedly. "I've been focused on tutoring the fifth years in herbology and I haven't noticed."

"Have you checked in the dorm?" Hermione asked sensibly.

Neville nodded and chewed his lip. "He's not there. Did he say anything to you?"

"Just that he was going to wander the halls for a bit to think," Hermione said, starting to get worried herself.

"We need to find him," Neville said urgently.

Hermione nodded and started gathering her papers. "It is almost curfew," she agreed.

"It's not that," Neville said. He leaned closer and whispered, "He entered stage two this morning."

Hermione's eyes widened and her gathering speed doubled. "Lavender, Parvati, will you watch my things? Maybe take them upstairs for me?" Hermione called over to her dorm-mates. She was satisfied with the nods and vague wave of hands so she grabbed Neville and the two friends quickly left Gryffindor tower.

"Where would he go?" Neville asked urgently. "You've explored this castle with him more than I have."

"He could be anywhere," Hermione admitted agitatedly. "Harry knows this castle better than any of us."

"Favorite places?" Neville asked anxiously.

"He likes the lake for thinking," Hermione said then added dismissively, "but it's cold and rainy tonight."

Neville stopped abruptly and Hermione, still holding his arm, was forced to stop as well. He stared at her. Hermione stared back in bewilderment for a moment before her eyes widened. Hermione let go of Neville's arm and together they set off at a run for the main doors.

A few minutes later Hermione and Neville were cold, wet, and panting. They were, however, correct in their presumption and were now standing right next to Harry. A Harry who was obviously completely soaked and, if the shivers and shallow breathing were any indication, also hypothermic.

"Harry? Harry?" Hermione called to her friend. He seemed dazed and she was afraid to touch him and startle him. It took another minute before her calls and pleas were heard.

"H'mione?" Harry mumbled.

"Yes, it's me," Hermione said in relief. _She _was freezing already from just a few minutes outside and Harry was obviously worse. They needed to get him inside quickly. "Neville's here, too. We're going to take you back inside now, all right? All you have to do is let us guide you back inside. Can you do that?"

Harry frowned in thought, as if he had to decipher the words. "Sure," he said eventually.

Hermione and Neville each took one of Harry's arms and started leading him back to the castle. Harry stumbled several times but kept his feet with the offered help. Neville had just closed the main doors when Harry mumbled something.

"What was that, Harry?" Hermione asked as Neville rejoined them.

"I could have mated with him," Harry mumbled again, his friends straining to hear. "I would have been happy, I think."

"Who, Harry?" Hermione asked as she tried to get her friend moving once again. He didn't budge, though, so she took the opportunity to start casting several drying and warming charms.

"Martin," Harry mumbled. "I liked him. I liked him a lot. He was very kind. And he felt so nice. His magic. It was wonderful. We could have mated. Maybe I should just pick."

Hermione bit her lip at her friend's words and shared a nervous glance with Neville. "Did you see him today?" she asked then went back to her spells.

Harry nodded then started giggling a bit hysterically. "He's a Death Eater," he burbled. "A Death Eater. I like a Death Eater. I really like him. And he likes me."

"Harry," Neville interrupted pleadingly. "Come on. Let's get upstairs."

But Harry refused to move. "He's a widower with one son and one daughter," Harry continued, oblivious to his friends' growing concern. "He likes to swim in the ocean and collect shells. He likes French food and thinks I'm attractive. We could be good mates. Except it's too early to mate with him."

"Harry, we need to go upstairs now," Hermione said firmly once she was done with the charms. She tugged on his arm and was relieved when Harry started moving obediently.

"It's too early for him," Harry said absently. "The Mark, you know. A bond right now couldn't conquer both a Mark and my scar. So it's too early for him. But maybe not for others. Ian or Gustav or Michael. Maybe Draco. His magic's nice."

"What?" Hermione squeaked. Surely Harry hadn't said what she thought he had?

"Harry!" Neville said sharply with a firm shake to Harry's arm. "You can't talk about them here. The walls have ears." He gave Hermione a stern look and was satisfied she would keep her silence when she bit her lip and nodded.

Harry frowned. "Maybe I should just pick. But which one? And it's too early. But maybe not. Maybe it would work. But probably not. So I have to wait. But maybe it would work. Martin would be a good mate…"

Harry's voice abruptly cut off and Neville gave Hermione a surprised look. Hermione looked slightly embarrassed over her silencing spell but nevertheless resolute. "He's completely off in his own world and running around in circles," Hermione said. "I don't think you can trust him not to say something he shouldn't."

Neville nodded in understanding. She was right, of course, but… "His babbling will tell us if he's getting better or worse. You'll have to take it off when we get to the tower."

"I will," Hermione agreed. She swallowed anxiously and asked softly, "Why…Why is he like this? Do you know? It seems more than what can be accounted for by hypothermia."

"I told you," Neville answered back just as softly. "He entered second stage this morning."

"But nothing I've read said anything about this…this confusion," Hermione protested, still keeping her voice low. "It said that the danger signs were pain and anger."

Neville shook his head and kept Harry upright as he stumbled up a flight of stairs. Once again on flat ground, he answered grimly, "He's passed through that, already. The confusion is a sign of him starting to spiral down into secondary magical shock. The fact that he's freezing and probably in physical shock, too, certainly isn't helping matters any."

"No," Hermione moaned in dismay. Magical shock, versus magical degeneration, is what killed Veela submissives on Désespoir stage-entry days.

"It's not critical just yet," Neville said, only somewhat reassuringly. "We need to get him warmed up and stabilized. I won't be able to do it alone."

"I'll help," Hermione promised immediately. "Anything."

Neville shook his head. "No. I'm sorry. He thinks your magic feels nice, but it's not going to be nice enough to get him re-stabilized. I'm going to need Lavender to help. We'll have to strip down so he can have skin-to-skin contact. We'll also…"

"She'll never!" Hermione interrupted. She was completely shocked that Neville would suggest such a thing!

"She will," Neville said with certainty. "She already told me so. You can still help, though. We need to keep him awake and talking as long as possible."

Hermione drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "All right," she said with forced calm. "Can you get Harry to the tower by yourself? I can go up and warn her."

"That's a good idea," Neville said as he once again kept Harry from falling flat on his face. "And I can manage. Maybe you can kick everyone out of the common room and set up some bedding by the fire."

Hermione nodded then made sure Neville had a firm hold on Harry before once more breaking into a sprint. She contemplated the situation as she huffed up yet another set of stairs. She'd known about the skin-to-skin contact being the best and fastest way for a submissive to regain magical stability, at least what magical stability they still had, not to mention recovering from hypothermia, but… Well, for one, after Harry's assurances that he would do his best to live, she'd really not expected the situation to come up when he entered stage two. For another, even if it did, she'd not realized that anyone other than Neville would be involved. To think that she was going to be sitting with three naked people in her common room…

Hermione made it up the last set of stairs and immediately slowed to a walk; she didn't want to sound winded and desperate when she ordered everyone to bed. She made it to the portrait of the fat lady and stopped to take several calming breaths. When she felt she was ready she gave the password and entered into the common room. No one seemed to notice her entrance. Well, that would change.

"Everyone is to go to their dorms," Hermione ordered loudly. There were quite a number of protests after the initial shock of her pronouncement wore off. She caught Lavender's eye and tilted her head slightly towards the fire. She was grateful when the other girl's eyes widened in understanding and she leaned in towards Parvati and began whispering. Parvati nodded and picked up her things as well as Lavender's and Hermione's.

"I didn't mean an hour from now," Hermione said sternly. "Everyone to bed." She started glaring at everyone who wasn't moving to her satisfaction and was gratified when several people quickly scurried off. Five plus years with Snape for a teacher had to be good for something.

It took nearly two minutes to clear the common room. It was a miracle, surely, but it was still too long in Hermione's opinion. She had a bed to make, a fire to get roaring, and a classmate to inform.

"How bad is he?" Lavender asked once everyone else had left.

Or maybe not. She hated to admit it, but Lavender did seem to have a head on her shoulders. It was just filled with _much _different information and priorities than her own. "Bad, but not critical," Hermione said briskly as she pulled her wand and pointed it determinedly at the fire. The fire jumped sharply in response, turning from the small, cozy flame it had been into a roaring blaze.

"The idiot has been standing outside in the cold and rain for Merlin knows how long," Hermione said sharply, her worry turning her tone angry. "He's confused and babbling and his thoughts are running around in circles." She started floating furniture away from the fire.

"Secondary magical shock, then," Lavender said as she pulled her own wand and helped move the furniture out of the way.

Hermione pursed her lips and didn't respond to the comment. "Neville should be along with him in a few minutes. We need to make a bed here and get the room warmed up."

"You do the bed," Lavender said. "You're better at transfiguration that I am. I can handle the temperature charms."

Hermione nodded wordlessly and turned her attention to transfiguring one of the couches into a nice big mattress – one that would easily fit three snuggling people. She turned one of the chairs into a smaller mattress slightly off to one side. Every last pillow and cushion was then sacrificed to become bed pillows, sheets, blankets, and quilts for the two beds. She had just barely finished when the portrait opened and Neville guided Harry into the common room. She absently noted that the temperature had risen a good five degrees.

As Neville got closer, Hermione said, "I was putting quilts on the beds when I started wondering why you suggested the common room. Why not your dorm?"

"Because you have the authority to kick everyone out of _here,_" Neville said as he stood Harry by the larger mattress and started undoing buttons.

Hermione blushed and quickly turned around. "A dorm room would be safer. We could keep everyone out." She heard Lavender change her spell from air-warming charms to cloth-warming charms, presumably charming the bedding.

"But boys can't get to the girls' dorms and you're not allowed to kick the boys out of their dorms," Neville said matter-of-factly. "They could certainly agree of their own accord, but you know there are some, like Ron, who wouldn't agree just because it's for Harry. This isn't ideal, but it's the best option we've got."

"I'm sure we could get one of the boys' dorms cleared out," Hermione said, resolutely ignoring the sound of rustling clothes behind her.

"We don't have time," Neville denied. "We need to get Harry stabilized _now,_ not half an hour from now after we've finally managed to convince one of the year groups to vacate their room for the night. Plus, we don't want him to become even more upset from witnessing some petty argument centered around him getting preferential treatment or whatnot. Lavender, hold him a minute while I get undressed."

"The Room of Requirement?" Hermione asked plaintively and pretended she hadn't heard Neville's last words.

"Which is on the _top _floor on the _other _side of the castle," Neville said. "Just how long do you think it would have taken us to get _there?_"

"We could go to the infirmary," Hermione suggested half-heartedly. She knew how much Harry hated the infirmary.

"Not a good idea to have him somewhere he doesn't like when we're trying to calm him down," Neville said with a small snort. "Besides, he doesn't want Madam Pomfrey anywhere near him. One of these days he might even tell me why."

Hermione sighed but nodded her understanding. She took off her own shoes and socks and robe then transfigured her clothes into pajamas. She waited for another minute, listening to the rustling of sheets and quilts and occasional soft urgings behind her.

"We're all covered now," Neville said. "You need to take off the silencing charm. Do you think you can try to get him talking coherently? He always did seem to listen to you more than anyone else."

Hermione turned around and blushed. She couldn't _see_ anything, but still…she knew all three of the people under the covers were naked. The clothes piles were right there! Harry was sandwiched between Neville behind him and Lavender in front. From the location of the lumps she surmised that Neville, laying on his side, had his arms around Harry and Harry, also on his side, had his around Lavender. Lavender was lying on her back and had Harry's head pillowed halfway on her right shoulder and halfway on her right breast. She hoped Harry's hands never strayed anywhere inappropriate. All three were shivering. How long would it take to warm up Harry to normal temperature?

"Hermione? The spell?" Neville prompted.

"Oh, of course," Hermione said, startled out of her straying thoughts. She removed her silencing charm and all three immediately heard Harry's babbling. He was still stuck in his previous circular reasoning. Hermione sat down on her own mattress, facing Harry. She interrupted him sharply, "Harry, pay attention. I have some questions."

And it was true. She did have questions. It took the better part of four hours, but she did eventually get all her answers, too. Of course, she also got quite a bit of information she hadn't asked for and was certain Harry wouldn't have let out had he been in his right mind.

Who were his favorite suitors and why? A list of a dozen men and a veritable dissertation on what gifts they had given him and what their dates had been like. Despite the fact that Harry had already mentioned the name once, she'd been shocked down to her toes when Harry had started in on Draco Malfoy, and even more shocked when the information about the Malfoy family's clandestine operations had been spilled. She was comforted by the fact that both Neville and Lavender had also been highly shocked, at least about what the Malfoy family was doing. Neville had evidently already known Malfoy had been courting Harry and Lavender thought the whole situation was romantic.

That shock had been matched just a little bit later by the revelation of the identity, the _full _identity, of Harry's chaperone. Grandfather she could handle. She'd almost suspected a family relation, anyway. After all, it made sense to her that Harry would search out that part of his family once he'd found out about its existence. But just who the grandfather was? Well, that had had her choking, Neville squeaking, and Lavender giggling in delight.

What were his favorite gifts? That had opened a floodgate. A quilt, his boots, the cloak, the vortex, the hawk ring, a pendant, a sweater, books, books, and more books. She'd reconciled that her friend was turning into nearly as much of a bookworm as herself and so wasn't surprised at the number of books he listed. She _was_ surprised, however, when she realized that quite a number of those gifts were from Draco Malfoy. She wasn't sure how she felt about that, either.

How did he plan on passing his N.E.W.T.s after missing a whole year of schooling? She'd only been mildly surprised to find out that Harry had done a lot extra studying last year in preparation; Harry could be rather sneaky and doubtless he'd used his temper as an excuse to be alone to good advantage. She'd been horrified, though, when Harry had admitted that he didn't care how well he did on his N.E.W.T.s. She'd ranted at him a good five minutes about that despite his excuses. Just because he wanted to be a full-time parent didn't mean that he should neglect his education. He'd laughed at her weakly and she'd been so delighted that he was coherent enough to find humor in the situation that she'd dropped the subject.

She'd continued to relentlessly question Harry about anything she could think of and, slowly, both Harry's speech and answers had become more coherent. The fight to keep him awake, however, had gotten more and more difficult as Harry slipped closer and closer to sleep. It was half past midnight by the time Harry fell completely asleep and could not be roused. She'd been nearly frantic until Neville had reassured her that it was probably a normal sleep.

She'd asked then if they should get him into his own bed and seek their own but both Neville and Lavender had refused; to take away the stabilizing influences now would only ensure that Harry didn't wake at all. She'd not made another protest and had instead set an alarm for six in the morning before curling into her own temporary bed. Six should allow them plenty of time to re-dress and set everything to rights before pursuing their normal morning routines.

She, Neville, and Lavender fell asleep quickly once the lights were dimmed, the stress of the evening having exhausted them all.

--HPDM--

Six in the morning proved more than sufficient time to un-transfigure everything and put the common room back to its normal state and still have time for a nice shower. It also proved more than sufficient time to reassure Harry that none of the secrets he had unwittingly revealed the previous night would ever pass their lips without his permission.

Other than the early wake up, the morning had gone normally. Neville had given Harry his honey candy and the two had showered, dressed, and walked down to breakfast together. Hermione had showered and dressed with perfect efficiency, sniffed at her dorm-mates antics with hair and make-up, and went to breakfast with her nose in a book. Lavender had ignored Hermione's disdain, made herself beautiful, and walked to breakfast with Parvati. It was why none of them were prepared when _The Daily Prophet_ arrived.

_Harry Potter Caught In Ménage à Trois!_

There, in bold color and taking up half the page, was a picture of Neville, Harry, and Lavender spooned together in front of the fire.

The gasps were loud and gossip started immediately. Harry hissed angrily and clenched his fists. Neville placed his left hand over Harry's right fist and started speaking urgently, telling Harry that the paper didn't matter. Lavender joined in with her own assurances and covered Harry's left fist with both her hands.

Hermione ignored them all and quickly skimmed the article. And wasn't it convenient that their source was neatly listed? From the contents of the article it was apparent that the little spy had taken his picture and started eavesdropping about an hour after they'd gotten Harry settled into bed. He must have called an owl to him from his dorm window and sent the picture and his report off to the paper a bit after ten o'clock. Even if the owl hadn't arrived until three or four in the morning, there would still have been enough time to stop the presses and rewrite the feature article. She castigated herself for failing to cast any privacy spells but at least what had been overheard was quite minor.

When Hermione looked up from her reading it was abundantly clear that Harry's temper was not going to be kept in check with a few reassuring words. She reached across the table and placed a hand on Harry's face. When she had his attention she very deliberately said, "Fuck them, Harry."

Harry's was not the only jaw that dropped at Hermione's wholly uncharacteristic profanity. Someone even snorted their tea.

Having completely derailed Harry's anger, Hermione once again said, "Fuck them, Harry." She glanced around briefly before focusing again on her friend with an intent look. "Nothing of importance was overheard and reported, just a bit about some of your favorite gifts. And anybody who believes _The Prophet_ is not worth your time. Consider it easy suitor elimination."

As planned, Harry was so flabbergasted with her swearing and her cold statement that all he could do was stare at her. She removed her hand and slowly stood up and glared the hall into silence. Everyone, students and teachers alike, gazed at her in wide-eyed surprise. Never before had _Hermione Granger _looked so intimidating, like a queen looking down condescendingly on unworthy subjects.

Hermione turned her glare to Colin Creevey and was gratified when the boy quailed from her gaze. "You have a written injunction against you in regards to taking pictures of many of your schoolmates," she said coldly.

Colin got an angry, stubborn look on his face and opened his mouth, to say what nobody would know as Hermione talked over him.

"For violating the injunction in regards to Neville Longbottom, 25 points from Gryffindor," Hermione said and watched as Colin flinched. Too bad 25 was her limit as a prefect.

"For violating the injunction in regards to Harry Potter, 25 points from Gryffindor," Hermione said and watched Colin grow pale. Fifty points was a lot to lose for your house and it was obvious that wasn't the end.

"For violating the injunction in regards to Lavender Brown, 25 points from Gryffindor," Hermione continued relentlessly. Colin's face became angry again and he looked about to protest, but she wasn't done.

"It is against school rules to send pictures of your classmates to any publication without their prior written consent," Hermione stated. She ignored the gasps scattered about the hall as some of them recognized what she was about to do.

"For violating the rule in regards to Neville Longbottom, 25 points from Gryffindor," Hermione said calmly. Colin's eyes went wide in alarm and she stopped a vindictive smile from coming over her face.

"For violating the rule in regards to Harry Potter, 25 points from Gryffindor," Hermione said and took pleasure from the shocked murmurs surrounding her.

"For violating the rule in regards to Lavender Brown, 25 points from Gryffindor," Hermione said, rounding off the set. Colin looked like he was ready to faint, but she still wasn't done.

"It is against school rules to send reports of your classmates' conversations to any publication without their prior written consent," Hermione said implacably. She noted, but ignored, McGonagall's pinched face.

"For violating the rule in regards to Neville Longbottom, 25 points from Gryffindor," Hermione said. Colin was breathing fast and the hall had regained its silence as the students listened to her in disbelief.

"For violating the rule in regards to Harry Potter, 25 points from Gryffindor," she said and absently noted the look of glee upon the face of Professor Snape.

"For violating the rule in regards to Lavender Brown, 25 points from Gryffindor," Hermione said and ignored the whimpers coming from several of her housemates.

"For violating the rule in regards to myself, 25 points from Gryffindor," she finished and watched in satisfaction as Colin finally did faint.

She swept her gaze regally around the hall. Quite a number of people actually leaned away from her. She'd just taken 250 points from her own house and didn't look the least bit upset. Everyone was shocked, most of the students were intimidated, and a few of the teachers were wondering where this lioness had been hiding the last five and half years.

Hermione sat back down, replaced her napkin in her lap, and picked up her fork. "Eat your breakfast, Harry."

Harry, too stunned to think, obeyed. The rest of the hall, most still speechless, followed suit.

--HPDM--

Monday morning saw nearly the entire Gryffindor house practicing their aim, and their newly learned spell courtesy of Hermione, on the plethora of incoming howlers. Most were destroyed from within the very feet and beaks of indignant delivery owls, but given the sheer volume of howlers, quite a number made it through to Harry, Neville, and Lavender.

After the racket from the successfully delivered howlers finally quieted a familiar eagle's screech was heard. The entire school looked up to where Nichol was circling and everybody noticed the lack of red in her talons. Harry, stony-faced, stood and allowed the eagle to land on his protected fist. Nichol spread her wings – nearly a full eight feet – and let out another loud screech before folding her wings primly, bobbing her head and twittering.

Harry sat back down and reached for the ties of one of the packages tied to Nichol's legs. He was surprised when, instead of being her normal cooperative self, Nichol hopped off his fist and waddled over to Lavender. Unlike everybody else watching the scene, Lavender appeared completely unsurprised and starting cooing over the eagle.

Hermione cleared her throat pointedly and said, "I imagine one of those packages is for you."

Lavender continued to coo her praise of the "pretty lady" but did identify and untie the small package that was meant for her. Lavender gave the eagle a piece of bacon and everyone watched, still amazed, as the eagle hopped and waddled over to Neville instead of returning to Harry.

Neville looked at Harry. "That doesn't look like a howler," he said needlessly. He wasn't showing it, but he was quite rattled over being the target of so much negativity.

"No," Harry said as he looked steadily back. What was Draco doing?

Both boys looked over at Lavender as she let loose a loud squeal of delight. Nichol stole a sausage off Neville's plate while he was distracted.

"Somebody knows exactly what I like!" Lavender exclaimed as she held up a slim bracelet.

"Was there a note?" Hermione asked curiously.

Lavender passed a small card to Hermione then held out the bracelet for admiration. "It's a deLuska!"

Harry's eyebrows rose as he recognized the famous designer from his lessons with Lavender. Whatever the bracelet was, even if it was just plain gold, it was rather pricey. He obligingly examined the bracelet and was dutifully impressed with the small sapphire and diamond flowers that adorned alternating links. Yes, very nice. He turned his gaze back to Neville, who was even more wide-eyed than before.

"It just says thank you," Hermione said in bemusement as she stared at the small card that had been handed to her. Obviously Malfoy understood what had really happened, but for him to send a present to Lavender and Neville? She resisted the urge to turn around and look for the blond.

Neville swallowed and looked back at the eagle in front of him. "Hey!" he exclaimed as Nichol swiped a second sausage.

Harry snickered. "Serves you right," he said.

Neville snorted and reached slowly for the two packages still tied to the eagle's right leg. The first one he untied was addressed to Harry so he passed it over. Still trying to procrastinate opening his own package, he looked at Harry expectantly.

Harry gave his own snort but obligingly opened his package. The letter was nice, filled with concern and best wishes for his health. He smiled at the book on spells used on Egyptian pottery and opened his new box of chocolate frogs. He opened one of the treats, captured and bit off the head of the enclosed frog, and looked at its accompanying card. "Yes!" he cried, pumping his fist in the air. "Frau Blücher!"

Neville gave another snort and shook his head. Harry and his cards… He left Harry to his celebration and untied the last package from the eagle's leg. He handed the eagle a piece of bacon and said, "You leave my sausage alone." The bird merely twittered at him.

Neville opened the accompanying card first. Unlike Lavender's, his said more than simply "thank you." Malfoy had written that he knew Neville's support was one of the primary reasons for Harry remaining as calm as he had while at school and thanked him for showing such courage and loyalty. Malfoy had then stated that he was aware of Neville's interest in herbology – well, of _course_ he was – and hoped that the enclosed book helped him in pursuit of his chosen path.

"Well?" Hermione asked curiously.

Neville hesitated, but decided to share the short letter with his friends. He was a bit embarrassed with the praise it gave him, but there was nothing in the note that ought to be kept secret. He turned his attention to his package and unwrapped it slowly. He gasped when he saw the title.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, craning her neck in an attempt to view the title. She passed Neville's note to Harry, using that as an excuse to lean farther forward to get a better look.

"_The Complete Works of Helga Hufflepuff, Annotated_," Neville breathed in reverence as he traced the embossed title with a shaky finger. "I've always wanted a copy but Gran won't buy one for me. She says it's too expensive. The school has a copy but it can't be checked out."

"Expensive like _Wizarding Cultures _expensive?" Hermione asked curiously. She did well in herbology, of course, but couldn't remember this title. And considering it was the work of one of the Founders…

Neville nodded. "It's 100 galleons. It's all of Helga Hufflepuff's works and more. It lists her original experiments and results and then lists all the results of those same experiments done with modern equipment and measuring devices. The experiments she wanted to do but couldn't, or didn't get to, were done and the results are listed. The questions she had about different plants and, well, and lots of different things, have been answered if possible. This is…is…just fantastic."

"It sounds like a great reference," Hermione said, impressed.

Neville looked up and blinked in surprise. Slowly he started to grin. "Actually, it's not," he said. "It's more of a historical record and an example of how to go about doing herbal research and how more accurate methods can yield different results. It's completely fascinating and every master herbologist has one. This is brilliant!"

Hermione smiled at Neville's excitement. "Congratulations, Neville. You deserve it."

Neville blushed and stammered, "Th-thanks."

"Hey, Neville," Harry said with amusement.

"Yes?" Neville asked as he turned to see Harry's smiling face.

"Do you want to write a thank you note now or do you want to save the last of your sausages and send one off next week?" Harry asked with a laugh.

"What?" Neville said then turned to see Nichol ripping apart yet another of his sausages. "Hey!"

Everyone nearby giggled or laughed at Neville's predicament.

"Come here, girl," Harry crooned. Nichol picked up the half-sausage in her beak and waddled over to Harry and stepped onto his proffered arm. "Did you get enough today?"

Nichol twittered as she transferred her sausage to a talon and ripped off another bite.

"Do you need to wait for responses today or will it be all right to wait until next week?" Harry asked. He interpreted the complicated response of twitter, bob and flap as it being acceptable to wait a week. "All right, then. Let me just tie on last week's thank you note and we'll see you next Monday." Nichol was finished with her sausage by the time Harry completed his task and he stood and launched her into the air. The eagle gave one more mighty screech just before leaving the school.

Harry put away his present and the piles of non-howler letters his housemates had collected for him and continued his breakfast. Despite the howlers, not to mention the new articles in _The Prophet _still condemning him, he had good and light-hearted conversations with his surrounding housemates and friends. It wasn't until he was leaving that the day went to Hell.

"I don't know why you're pretending to go on a date. Nobody's going to want you now that it's been proven you're just a greedy whore."

The hall went silent, the foul words loud enough for even the teachers to hear.

Harry went still and everybody held their breath.

--HPDM--

"Salazar's tits!" Draco hissed out. He'd known Michael Ryan was one stupid little Hufflepuff but this went above and beyond being a complete fool. They'd all be lucky indeed if Harry didn't kill everyone in his fury. It was _never _good news when a Veela, especially a submissive, went completely still like that. It was never a question of _if _fireballs would be thrown, it was always a question of how many and how much damage and loss of life.

"He didn't…" Pansy choked out, utterly shocked.

"He did," Draco hissed out.

"Merlin," Theodore breathed in horror. "We're all dead."

"Start evacuating," Draco commanded. "Leave one at a time and pick up a younger year on your way out. Walk slowly."

No one moved. No one would remember later if it was because of paralyzing fear or morbid fascination and Draco didn't care. _"Now,"_ he demanded harshly and was grateful when Blaise Zabini carefully stood to follow his instructions. _"Go," _he said to Theodore Nott a second later. He didn't take notice as the elder students of his house started filing out slowly, reaching out and hauling a random younger-year with them as they passed the far end of the table.

Draco turned to the Ravenclaw table and the only other half-Veela at Hogwarts and called softly but urgently, "Conway!"

The Ravenclaw didn't respond. He simply stared in horrified anticipation as Harry's wings slowly sprouted from his back.

"Conway! Get it together!" Draco said harshly.

Conway started and looked over to Draco with wide, fearful eyes.

"How is your fire?" Draco asked quickly.

"What?" Conway asked in confusion.

"How is your fire?" Draco asked again in irritation. "Can you help counter his fireballs?"

"Good enough," Conway said with a grim expression, finally over his shock and determined to do his best to ameliorate the coming destruction.

"How good?" Draco pressed.

"Good enough, Malfoy!" Conway said in irritation then turned to his neighbor. "Copy the Slytherins. One at a time. Slowly. Pick up a firstie. Go."

The Ravenclaws started their evacuation just as flames became visible around Harry's fists. All of those walking away couldn't help but move just a little bit faster despite the warning to move slowly.

"What the bloody hell is he doing?" Conway asked in a combination of fear, anger, and amazement.

Draco turned his attention from the Gryffindor table – where somebody with a brain, probably Granger, had also started a slow evacuation – back to Harry and, now, Neville Longbottom. "He's got bigger bollocks that the rest of that House put together," Draco said and meant it wholeheartedly. _He _would never approach an enraged submissive. Not for a million galleons.

"By the Queen," Conway gasped as Harry turned and Neville Longbottom stepped up close behind Harry and clasped his hands around Harry's forearms.

Draco nodded his agreement and continued to watch in trepidation as Longbottom spoke softly to Harry. What he wouldn't give to know just what Longbottom was saying at this moment that was so effectively delaying a submissive's rage.

"The stupid bastard's squirming," Conway whispered. "Does he have a death wish?"

Draco glanced at Conway then sent his gaze over to the imbecile that had endangered the entire student population. Ryan was being held by a fellow housemate – Draco thought it might be a second year – and was indeed struggling. The bigger boy had a hand over Ryan's mouth and an arm around the younger boy's body. It would only be a matter of time, though, before one or both slipped and Ryan was free.

Longbottom talked, Harry fumed, Ryan struggled, and Draco and Conway hid their hands below the table and called up their own fire. Any minute… Any minute…

Half the students had left the hall completely and most of the others were on their way out when Ryan stomped on his captor's foot and got free. "I'm not scared of you!"

"Oh, wrong thing to say," Conway murmured.

Draco lifted his hands from beneath the table and finished calling up a fireball just as Harry screeched and pulled his arms from Longbottom's grasp. Draco propelled his fireball to intercept the one Harry had just thrown at Ryan, noting that Conway's fireball was right beside his.

When the explosion cleared, Draco noticed that the second year was obviously quite valuable in a crisis as he'd knocked Ryan to the floor. Draco watched in surprise and approval as the second year grabbed Ryan's hair, lifted the boy's head, and then smashed it down hard onto the stone floor.

A second fireball flew over the boys on the floor and impacted on the Hufflepuff table, a second fireball missing intercepting it by less than a foot. "Damn it," Draco said. He had let his attention wander to completely immaterial things. Who cared if the brat got roasted?

The next quarter hour was lost to blazing fire and furious screeching. Draco had no time to contemplate anything as he threw fireball after fireball on intercepting courses, not all of them connecting to their targets. He absently noted that the remaining teachers were helping by putting out as many fires as they could.

They'd done their best. Merlin knew both he and Conway were exhausted and the teachers looked rather frazzled as well. Draco was pretty sure, though, that all the students, including a dazed Ryan unfortunately, had gotten safely out of the Great Hall. He was also pretty sure that it was only through their efforts that the head and Gryffindor tables were still intact. The Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables had been ignored by Harry and so had suffered no damage in his fiery rampage. The Hufflepuff table, however…

Well, Longbottom had evidently been encouraging Harry to target the table instead of the students and teachers and Draco and Conway had come to some unspoken agreement to support that course of action and had stopped sending intercepting fireballs when the target was just the Hufflepuff table. And the teachers' fire-fighting skills hadn't been sufficient to counter Harry's determined assault. As a result, well…

The Hufflepuff table - and its benches - was completely and utterly destroyed. Ash and the occasional charred piece of wood was all that was left. Draco idly wondered where the Hufflepuffs would sit to eat then decided he didn't care. He watched tiredly as Harry regained his human form under the murmurings of Neville Longbottom then allowed the huskier boy to turn him and lead him out of the Great Hall.

"Malfoy," Conway said quietly.

"Conway?" Draco said.

"We're talking with the Headmaster," Conway stated flatly. "If that little blighter isn't out of here by seven, he'll be joining his House table as an ash pile."

"Make it five," Draco said darkly. "That'll give us time to hunt him down if he decides to be difficult."

"Done."

--HPDM--

Draco held in a wince as Conway's claw gripped his shoulder even tighter. Despite himself, he was impressed. _He _couldn't partial-shift.

"You do not understand, Headmaster," Conway said flatly. "This is not a request. This is not a suggestion. This is not a negotiation. This is not even a demand. This is simply a fact. If that fool is still within the confines of Hogwarts' grounds at five o'clock, he will be eliminated."

"I'm sure this can be resolved peaceably," the Headmaster said placatingly.

Draco hissed his fury and a flame popped up around his right hand. A moment later the flame died as Conway's grip tightened yet _again._ He did wince this time as he felt a claw pierce his skin. He held his tongue, though. He may not like it – in fact, he didn't like it _at all_ – but it was Conway's place as the elder of them to discuss the situation with the Headmaster.

"Tell me, Headmaster, have you never wondered just why it is that the Ravenclaws and Slytherins, especially the Slytherins, have not run afoul of the submissive's temper?" Conway asked, his voice still flat and betraying no emotion.

"I have," admitted Pomona Sprout, ignoring the slightly disapproving look she received from Albus.

Conway turned his head to look at the Hufflepuff Head of House. He ignored the other Heads and the Headmaster as he answered her unspoken question. "I spoke to my entire house the night of the welcoming feast. I told them exactly what could be expected as to the submissive's behavior and exactly how they were to act. I told them that if any of them so much as looked at him wrong and aggravated him that they would answer to me. I showed them just how destructive my fireballs could be. I very clearly stated that he was under my _personal _protection. When I was done with them they were all very clear on the concept of what they were and were not allowed to say and do in regards to Harry Potter, a Veela submissive in my territory that I was responsible for."

"But you don't even have any interaction with Mr. Potter!" McGonagall protested angrily. "How can you possibly claim to be protecting him?"

"I spoke with him the very next morning," Conway refuted. "He told me he did not need my teachings, had no interest in my companionship, and that the best way I could protect him was by keeping my House in line. Otherwise, he wanted nothing to do with me and requested I stay away. He asked me to pass the same on to Malfoy, and I did."

Conway glanced at the younger dominant in his grasp then turned his gaze back to Professor Sprout. "I imagine that Malfoy had much the same talk with Slytherin House, if at a slightly later date, because his duties as a Veela override any prior disagreements he may have had with the submissive. Gryffindor House obviously has Granger to keep them in line for the most part. Tell me, did any of you bother with such a talk with the Hufflepuffs?"

The Headmaster opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by his door being opened and instead frowned in irritation. Once again his guardian had let through visitors without his permission. He narrowed his eyes at the Veela guard that stepped into his office. "May I help you?"

The guard glanced at the occupants of the room, noted the two youngsters, and said, "I am here to inform you that Neville Longbottom will not be attending classes today. Mr. Potter has refused to relinquish the young man's presence."

"Now see here…," Minerva McGonagall started to protest.

"Shut up," Conway ordered flatly. "If the submissive requires the presence of his friend to calm himself due to your total lack of foresight in eliminating a very real irritant, then so be it."

"I'm also here to determine what is being done about…the irritant," the guard said emotionlessly.

"He will be off Hogwarts' grounds by five o'clock or he will be eliminated by myself and Malfoy," Conway replied with a nod of respect towards the senior Veela.

The guard nodded back and stood to watch the rest of the meeting.

"You cannot randomly kill students," the headmaster admonished sternly. "What he said may…"

"It would not be random," Conway interrupted. "And as we could claim his life for his words, I would think you would be jumping at our mercy."

There was silence in the office for several moments as the teachers tried to formulate arguments to sway the implacable Ravenclaw. Even Snape tried to think up an argument despite the fact that he thought the world would be a better place with one less imbecile.

"We have nothing else to say," Conway said firmly and turned towards the door, turning Malfoy with him and pushing him ahead. The guard opened the door and the two of them left; the guard could deal with the protests of the teachers.

Conway pushed Malfoy ahead of him for several corridors before taking them into an empty classroom and shutting the door. He locked the door with a spell and cast several privacy charms then turned to Malfoy. "Let me fix your shoulder," he said.

Draco nodded and remained still as Conway cast a minor healing spell that sealed the small puncture in his shoulder from Conway's claws followed by spells to banish blood and repair cloth. He watched the elder half-Veela warily, recognizing that Conway was indeed still acting as a Veela and not a student.

"You're courting him, aren't you?" Conway asked harshly.

Draco stiffened and blanked his expression but did not speak.

Conway snorted mirthlessly. "Your response gives me my answer," he said. "I was almost certain while we were with the teachers. You're too upset about this situation with that brat."

"And you're not?" Draco demanded angrily.

"Oh, I am," Conway said with a grim smile. "But you're acting more protective than I am and also are obviously taking this more personally than I am."

Draco pressed his lips together and looked away, unable to contradict Conway's statements. Damn. Who else had picked up on the truth?

"If it makes you feel better, I don't think anyone else realizes it," Conway said with a shrug. "The teachers are obviously ignorant and won't know enough to recognize that your response was beyond normal."

Draco grimaced at Conway's words; he wasn't so sure he agreed. Severus Snape's association with Lucius Malfoy, a y-male half-Veela from a line of y-males, had given him a more than cursory understanding of Veela. Hopefully the man's irrational hatred of all things Potter would blind him to the likely reason behind Draco's anger.

"I can't believe you're courting him," Conway said, shaking his head in disbelief. "He nearly killed you! You'd be dead if Madam Pomfrey hadn't been right there."

"I'm well aware of that, thank you," Draco said irritably. The near-death experience had opened his eyes to quite a number of things.

"I can't believe he's _letting _you," Conway said then looked intently at Draco. "Why _is _he letting you court him?"

Draco contemplated not answering the question but decided Conway probably wouldn't let him go without a fight if he didn't. He sighed in resignation and said, "He doesn't know. I've been using an alias."

Conway blinked in surprise. "That's not going to work when you go on your date," he said eventually. "And it can't have worked when you went to those meetings last year."

Draco's face twitched slightly. "I didn't go to those meetings," he said. "I asked to be excused and he agreed. And I used a glamour on our date. Which went very well, I'll have you know."

Conway stared incredulously at the younger half-Veela for nearly a full minute. "I'd love to know why he allowed those things but it's none of my business. Still, this deception is a bad idea, Malfoy. I've spoken to Potter only that once, but even I know that. He's going to be furious when he finds out your identity."

"I'm working on that," Draco said tightly, refusing to give the details of his courtship.

"You're working on that," Conway repeated in disbelief.

"_Yes," _Draco ground out. "I'm working on it! By the time he finds out who I am I believe that he will accept me. I know I've got a fair chance."

Conway was silent for several moments. "You know, Malfoy, maybe you do," he said thoughtfully. "I've known you nearly your whole life and while you've always been a bit of a snob, you only turned into an obnoxious prick once you started Hogwarts. Even over the summer and winter holidays you're not nearly as much of a bastard as you are at school. Why is that? Are you hiding? Toeing the line until you're of age before going off to do your own thing?"

"None of your business," Draco said stiffly. Damn, damn, damn. He was so close. Merlin, don't let Conway screw this up for him by tattling his suspicions about the courtships.

"It's your father, isn't it?" Conway mused softly. "But you'll be seventeen soon, won't you? Isn't your birthday in the spring?"

"June fifth," Draco said then added angrily, "Think you can keep your mouth shut until then?"

"Sure, Draco," Conway said with a small smile and clasped the boy's shoulder. "Good luck," he said sincerely and dropped his spells and left the room.

Draco stared after Conway, his emotions running wild. The fear and anger from the incident in the Great Hall, the disgust and fury from the "talk" with the Headmaster and Heads of House, the fear of what he might have given away and the deadly consequences that could engender for both him and Pansy, all these left him shaking.

Draco slowly dropped to his knees and spent the next half hour getting himself back under control. One more month, thirty more days, and it wouldn't matter who knew what or what they said. Just one more month and his father would no longer have custody of him and he and Pansy would be free.


	23. May & June

**Updated 5/21/2008 **- fixed spelling error

A/N: For those of you who asked about Sirius – there is a bit about him here. Sorry to disappoint those who were hoping to see Hermione's reaction to the prophecy. You will see more about her reactions in 25. This chapter is a series of vignettes that take us through the end of the school year.

_Cookies to __Lady PhoenixFyre_ _and Jane_ for inspiration on additions in this chapter.

_Michael Ryan aka "The Snot"._ Actually, there is no back story on this. He is modeled after a mean spirited, foul-mouthed, little brat I was exposed to in grade school. He didn't have to even know your name to insult you "creatively." It was like it was his entertainment. As for mature? Well, for one, the brat I knew was _younger_, if you can believe that. And, two, my friends and I knew what those words meant at that age. We twittered over them and whispered them safely away from adults, but we knew what they meant. So I think eleven is a sufficient age – if you have an (im)proper upbringing – to be nasty with your words in that way.

**Chapter 23 – May & June**

_The Quibbler, Special Addition to May Edition,_ Monday, May 19, 1997

_**Current Count of Suitors: 54**_

_Excerpt from __An Introduction to Veela__, Chapter 13 - The Arts – Revered Craftsmen_

"Oooh, only fifty-four left," Hermione said as she glanced at the headline of _The Quibbler_. "That's excellent, Harry."

Harry smiled brightly. "Yes, it is. It's even better than you think. I contacted my remaining suitors that I hadn't been on a date with yet and asked if they wanted to move their date up to an earlier time-slot. Everyone agreed and now I'll be done with the dates on June sixth."

"That's wonderful!" Hermione said with a grin. "Now you'll be able to take your end-of-year tests."

Harry's jaw dropped open in surprise at his friend's statement then he started laughing.

"Now, Harry, they're important," Hermione said sternly over Harry's laughter and the snickers of some of their closer housemates. "At the very least, you can use the results to tell where you need to do extra studying next year to catch up so you can do well on your N.E.W.T.s."

Harry just continued to laugh. Despite everything, Hermione was still concerned with N.E.W.T.s. The Sunday that she'd ripped Colin to pieces he had relayed to her everything Rookwood had told him. He'd just known that her display had been the sign he'd been waiting for. She'd been skeptical, of course, but had promised to hear out the representative to the Unspeakables before making a final decision about her so-called destiny. But it was just like his friend to ignore portents of doom and destruction in favor of doing well on tests that would be meaningless once the Ministry fell.

"Harry!" Hermione protested irritably.

Harry held up a hand to ask for patience and spent several moments controlling his laughter. When he'd managed he grinned at Hermione and said, "I tell you what. If the teachers allow it, because I bet some won't, I'll take the tests. But you have to promise not to nag me about school otherwise. All right?"

"All right," Hermione said with a small smile. She knew Harry was right, unfortunately. She wouldn't be surprised if half the teachers refused to allow Harry to take the tests due to his almost total absence from the year's classes.

Harry shook his head in amusement and forked a bite of eggs into his mouth. He got a thoughtful look on his face and when he'd swallowed his bite he said, "You know, sometimes I think I ought to actually thank Colin. It's because of him that I had so many suitors withdraw."

Neville nearly choked on his tea and Hermione got a pinched look on her face. Lavender was too busy gossiping with Parvati to listen in and offer even a non-verbal opinion.

"Don't you dare, Harry," Hermione said angrily. "You already interceded with the Veela Council. He deserved everything else he got."

"I know, I know," Harry said quickly. "And I wouldn't really. I just think it sometimes."

"If you did, you would hurt my and Liam Cadbury's suit against _The Prophet,_" Neville added.

"I wouldn't really," Harry said again. "I wouldn't do that to you and Lavender. And not Liam, either, for that matter. I mean, how many men would be completely accepting of me snuggling up to their naked wife? It might have been perfectly innocent, and my life was on the line, but still."

"I'm surprised they talked about the possibility over Christmas," Neville said with lingering amazement. "I can't tell you how shocked I was when Lavender told me they'd decided to go ahead and risk a scandal if I ever needed her help like that because you were having problems with your magic. He's definitely a good man. I'm glad she married him. She's liked him forever."

"And speaking of which," Hermione said quietly as she leaned forward. "I really don't know what to get her for a present. I can't even believe she's married! She's only sixteen! And I definitely can't believe she invited me to her party."

"It's a delayed wedding reception," Neville corrected. "And neither do I."

"Not as many people dislike you as you think," Harry said wryly. "You're a good person, Hermione, and Lavender knows that."

Hermione blushed slightly and waved her hands about in agitation. "But why would she invite me?" she asked quietly. "I'm always going on about her not spending enough time on her studies and how foolish it is to spend all that effort on makeup and such."

"And then you spent two hours repairing all my makeup when all the powders got cracked and mixed when my trunk was dropped last Christmas," Lavender said, proving she had been paying attention all along.

Hermione blushed brighter and said in protest, "The house-elves fixed it."

Parvati giggled and Lavender smiled and patted Hermione's arm. "The house-elves are excellent at cooking and cleaning, but the fine control needed to separate out over two dozen different colors of powder is beyond their abilities. I've always known it was you who fixed my makeup for me."

Hermione's face went beet-red and she quickly picked up her bag and stood. "I have to get to class," she said hurriedly and fled the scene.

There were quite a number of surrounding Gryffindors who joined in the general mirth of Hermione's escape.

"Who knew?" Ginny said with a grin. "Hermione can handle being thought of as a bossy know-it-all but Merlin forbid anyone accuse her of being _nice_."

Harry laughed along with the others. He would track down his friend later and give her gift ideas. He'd seen a small section on books when he'd looked through the deLuska jewelry catalog for his own delayed wedding gift for Lavender. Undoubtedly one of those would be suitable as a present.

--May 24--

"The Dark Lord is pleased with the way Potter's courtships are progressing and has no plans to provide any type of disruption this year," Severus reported. "He is hoping one of the Death Eaters, or at least someone he can influence, wins the brat's favor and that he'll be able to bring the boy to the dark."

"Are there many Death Eaters left in the courtships?" Arthur asked worriedly.

"There are four," Severus answered. "Martin Goyle, Halifax Nott, Matthew Gibbon, and Ares Selwynn."

"Do you think Potter will choose one of them?" Kingsley asked with a frown.

"Of course he won't!" Molly protested loudly. "He's a good boy! How dare you suggest it!"

"At least Malfoy isn't one of them," said Charlie. He wondered why four Death Eaters passed when he didn't. Harry didn't want a mate who would be involved in the coming war and wouldn't those Death Eaters fight for their master? There must be something going on there – he would have to mention it later. Maybe those men were unhappy and would make good spies.

"Malfoy was eliminated in April," Alastor grunted. "He was none too pleased going by his expression as he stormed out of The Rose Inn."

"Indeed. The Dark Lord was none too pleased, either," Severus said with a vindictive smirk. "But to answer Shacklebolt, I believe the remaining four have as much chance as any of the remaining suitors. The Dark Lord is pleased that so many have passed through the dates."

"Even after what happened three weeks ago?" Marcus asked in disbelief.

"And just what do you think happened three weeks ago?" Alastor asked then shook his head. "You think the lad had sex with his classmates?"

"That's certainly what it looked like," Marcus said defensively.

"That is not what happened," Albus interjected. "We can discuss the truth of that incident later. Severus, please continue your report."

"The Dark Lord claims to have acquired a new follower, someone he calls the General," Severus said. "No one has seen this General as yet, but it appears that it is this _General_ who has stayed the Dark Lord's hand this year."

"This could be bad," Alastor said with a frown. "If this General is good, or even half good, we could have quite the fight on our hands."

"Especially if You-Know-Who actually listens to him," Shacklebolt said thoughtfully. "I studied the last war and if the Death Eaters had been just a little bit more organized… Well, there would have been a lot more death and destruction."

"What have you been able to discover about this General?" Albus asked. He was quite worried about what this might mean; he knew that both Alastor and Kingsley were correct in their comments.

"Nothing other than what I have already reported," Severus said. "Nobody has seen or heard from the General in any way. The only reason we know about him/her/it is because the Dark Lord boasted constantly during the last meeting."

"Please see if you can discover more," Albus said.

"Of course," Severus said with a short nod. "The Death Eaters released from Azkaban last year continue their recovery. Five new…"

"It's been over a year!" Hestia exclaimed.

"It takes quite some time to recover from fourteen years of starvation and dementor exposure," Snape said tonelessly. "Physical recovery is only part of it. The Dark Lord wants his followers to be mentally and magically recovered as well and that takes longer."

"He'll probably wait until they're fully recovered to make another strike," Alastor said thoughtfully. "If I was a semi-intelligent General, that's what I'd do."

"When do you estimate that might be, Severus?" Albus asked worriedly.

"Given what I know of these things and what I can presume of their original state, I would estimate a total recovery period of two years," Severus said. "In other words, we have until the new year."

--May 31--

Harry returned from his Saturday dates and stalked up the stairs to his dorm in a rather foul mood. Both dates that day had gone poorly and he was in no mood to stop and socialize. He wasn't surprised to see Neville in the dorm when he arrived, but he was surprised to see that his friend appeared to be in an even worse mood than he was.

"Neville?" Harry queried unsurely.

"How do you deal with it?" Neville asked as he continued to gaze at his canopy. He was lying on his bed with his hands behind his head and had been moodily contemplating life for the past couple hours.

"Deal with what exactly?" Harry asked. He was pretty sure Neville wasn't referencing poor dates.

"With everybody staring at you and whispering nasty things about you behind your back," Neville said glumly.

"Ah," Harry said. He took off the light cloak he'd worn that day and put it away in his trunk. He sat on the edge of his bed and tried to think of something wise and comforting to say to his friend. "Well…"

"I mean, I've only had to deal with this for less than a month," Neville interrupted. "You've had nearly six years of this abuse. How have you managed? I'm near ready to go spare already."

"I just…I didn't have any choice," Harry said softly. "I dealt with it because I couldn't do anything else. It's not as if I wasn't angry about it."

Neville snorted. "No wonder you were always in such a bad mood last year," he said.

Harry huffed a short laugh. "Yeah. It was bad last year, that's for sure."

Neville sat up then and crossed his legs though he still didn't look over at Harry. "Did you ever feel like finding some dark corner and never coming out?"

Harry paused. "Sometimes."

"Nobody wants to know the truth," Neville said as he picked absently at his quilt.

"I know," Harry said softly.

"They'd rather believe some story from a paper that's constantly proven wrong," Neville said with a hint of anger.

"I know."

"It's like they're excited to have some reason, even if it's made up, to attack me," Neville said. "Like it's some imperative to rip me to pieces and drag me down."

"I know."

"They're rabid," Neville stated vehemently.

Harry snorted. "They are," he agreed.

"Do you know that nobody has even asked me for my side of the story?" Neville asked in angry disbelief. "They call me names and tell me what an awful person I am but no one, not one person, has asked _why_."

"And they won't," Harry said with a sigh. "When the truth comes out, though, you'll start getting a bunch of apologies and some will even tell you that they never believed it to begin with."

"Merlin," Neville said in disgust. He finally turned to Harry. "How have you managed all these years?"

Harry shrugged. "Like I said, I didn't have a choice."

Neville frowned. "You have a choice now, though."

"I told you why I'm not making a fuss," Harry said, shaking his head. "I don't want to risk revealing my heritage quite yet by suing _The Prophet_ and making them print the truth."

"I remember," Neville said then sighed. "I suppose it's not all bad. I had a Hufflepuff thank me today."

"You did?" Harry asked in surprise.

Neville grinned suddenly. "Seems that little snot was expelled and the whole House is grateful."

Harry blinked at his friend, speechless.

"Over the course of the school year he had offended every single Hufflepuff," Neville continued. "They celebrated the night he was sent away. He was a real piece of work, evidently, and they all hated him."

"That's…" Harry trailed off, unable to verbalize his amazement.

"Isn't it?" Neville laughed. "I hadn't even noticed that he was gone."

"Me neither," Harry murmured. He was glad – in a sort of suppress-my-Veela-instincts kind of way – that he hadn't killed the brat. It was good the brat was gone, though. He wondered what threat had been held over the headmaster's head to finally get rid of the kid. Considering the things that happened at the school he couldn't see the man expelling a student simply for offensive words.

"And I did get all those nice presents," Neville said. "Can you believe that Gran wanted me to send them back?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "You hadn't told me that. I hope you didn't."

"Of course I didn't," Neville said with a snort. "And I won't, either, no matter what she says. She hasn't bothered me, though, since I sent that letter telling her to buy some books."

"I still can't believe you did that," Harry said, remembering the rather scathing letter Neville had written to his grandmother that Neville had let him read before sending off.

Neville shrugged. "It wasn't any more rude than the letter she sent me," he said.

"True," Harry agreed with a wince. Dame Longbottom's letter had truly been offensive with its accusations. "Why does she hate Veela so much? I mean, I never took her for someone who believed in the pure-blood bigotry. And your cousin's married to one."

"Bigotry's an odd thing," Neville said with another shrug. "You can believe one group of people is perfectly deserving of equal rights and still believe that another group isn't. Gran's like that. It's not as if prejudice is completely logical, you know."

"I guess not," Harry said with a sigh. "Did you get another present this morning? It's a bit late but I saw you got a box."

Neville shook his head. "That was my order from Flourish and Blotts. I think I've gotten all the presents I'm going to get. Still, I'm twenty nice presents ahead of anywhere I thought I'd be. Lavender, too."

"I'm glad you two got something out of the deal besides snide comments," Harry said and leaned back on his elbows.

"Oh, I'll get the satisfaction of seeing them eat their words, too," Neville said with a vindictive smile. "I don't suppose I can convince you to do another interview while school is still in session, can I?"

Harry laughed. "Maybe. I was planning on doing one the first week of August after I was done with the dates and since I'll be done earlier…"

"That'd be great, if you could," Neville said eagerly. "Just think of how much I'll be able to lord the truth over everybody. It'd be brilliant."

Harry grinned at his friend. "I'll contact Mr. Lovegood, then."

--June 8--

"Are you sure this is such a good idea, dear?" Pansy asked nervously.

"No," Draco answered wryly. "But I'm going to do it anyway."

"Now you sound like a Gryffindor," Pansy complained.

"And just what House does your hopefully future fiancé come from?" Draco asked with small snort. "I thought you admired courage."

"Courage, maybe, but not recklessness," Pansy hissed angrily. "This…this could backfire. Badly."

Draco sighed and fiddled with his robes. "I know it could," he finally said. "But nobody from Slytherin has been bothering Harry at all this year. I think we've got a good chance for a peaceful approach, especially with Weasley out of the picture. And you know I want to get Harry started thinking about me differently."

Pansy groaned in exasperation and grabbed the three books from off Draco's small table. "The things I do for you," she muttered angrily.

Draco smiled slightly and said, "Thank you."

Pansy scowled. "Let's go. If I'm going to be hexed by Gryffindors then I'd rather get it over with as soon as possible."

The two of them walked unhurriedly towards the Great Hall and their uncertain fate at the hands of Harry and his closest friends. Just before entering the hall Draco took the books from Pansy.

Pansy peeked around the door briefly. "Well, we'll certainly have an audience," she said. "It looks like practically everyone is here, just like you wanted."

"Of course they are," Draco said as he led them into the hall. "It's Sunday breakfast and there're extra pastries."

They walked casually towards the Gryffindor table, well aware of the eyes and gossip that was following them. By the time they had reached their destination of a polite distance from Harry everyone was watching with varying degrees of curiosity or, in the case of the Gryffindors, animosity.

Draco was most interested in Harry's reaction, of course, and was pleased to see that while the other boy appeared wary, he did not seem hostile. The same was true of Longbottom and Granger. "Good morning," he said in greeting.

"Go away, you slimy snake!" Ron Weasley called from six places away from Harry. "Nobody wants you here!"

Draco ignored him and continued looking at Harry and his friends.

"Good morning," Longbottom said eventually. "What can we do for you?"

Draco smiled slightly and said, "Last Thursday was my birthday. I am now seventeen." He continued to ignore the negative comments around him, especially Weasley's. He was amused to see Harry and Longbottom exchange a glance then was surprised when Granger and Brown-Cadbury were included in the silent communication.

"Congratulations, Malfoy," Longbottom said blandly.

"Thank you," Draco said with a small nod. "While I am still a student, I am also now an adult." He paused a moment, then added, "This mean I no longer must answer to my father and his whims."

There were still some angry murmurs amongst the Gryffindors but there were a great number more people who were avidly listening to the encounter and waiting for Longbottom's response. Draco waited patiently.

"Congratulations," Longbottom said again after nearly a minute of silence.

"Thank you," Draco said and smiled a bit wider. He nearly laughed as he saw some of the students lean away in uncertainty. He looked directly at Hermione Granger and said, "I would like to extend a formal apology for my behavior towards you for the past six years. While I have my reasons, I'm sure they would be cold comfort to you after all the harassment. Please accept this gift as a token of my remorse and my admiration of your intelligence and persistence in the face of the prejudice you face every day." He held out one of the books he carried toward Longbottom and waited.

Pansy watched tensely as Granger looked between her friends, Draco, and the book that Draco held. She let out an inaudible sigh of relief when Granger nodded slightly and Neville reached out to take the book then pass it across the table. She barely held in a smirk of triumph when Granger couldn't hold back a squeal of excitement.

"I think the whole school is aware of how much you like _Hogwarts: A History_," Draco said. "I thought you might like the expanded collector's edition."

"I…yes…I…thank you, Malfoy," Granger stuttered out as she clasped the book tightly.

"You're welcome," Draco replied. He turned to Longbottom next. "I would like to extend a formal apology for my behavior towards you. Please accept this gift as a token of my remorse and my admiration of your skills in herbology and the courage you've allowed to show recently. You are a true Gryffindor." He held out a second book.

Pansy stifled a pleased smile when Neville blushed slightly but reached for the book without hesitation. Two down, one to go.

Draco didn't bother to suppress his smile when Longbottom's eyes widened in surprise. "I had heard you had received one of Helga's primary works and thought you might like her other major work _The Comparative Compendium_. I've not read it, but I've heard that it's the best comparison of the use of European and Asian herbs even today."

"It is," Longbottom said reverently then added in a more formal tone, "Thank you for your gift. I accept your apology and hope for better relations between us in the future."

Draco nodded and turned to Harry. He was a bit disconcerted by the calculating gleam he saw in the other's eyes but continued with his planned apology. "I would like to extend a formal apology for my behavior towards you. Please accept this gift as a token of my remorse and my admiration of your flying ability and your amazing and infuriating luck." He held out the last book he carried for Harry to take. He was very careful to keep his hand well away from where Harry might accidentally touch it. He didn't want to risk Harry recognizing his magic just yet. He grinned when Harry took the book with a chuckle.

"My infuriating luck?" Harry said with a grin. "Has it been giving you fits, Malfoy?"

"Oh, yes," Draco answered wryly. "I assure you that it's been quite the well of frustration in the past."

"_Circus Flying_?" Harry asked curiously. "Is this a career suggestion?"

Draco snorted in amusement. "No, not really. I know you love flying for flying's sake and I figured if anyone could master those trick moves, it would be you."

Draco watched Harry flip through the book curiously and raise his eyebrows in surprise at some of the complicated moves depicted. Draco nearly jumped for joy when Harry turned to him with a sincere smile.

"Thank you, Malfoy," Harry said. "I accept your gift and, uh, hope for better relations between us."

Draco smiled back. "You're welcome." He took a step back then bowed to Harry and the others. "Have a pleasant day," he said then turned and left, Pansy following along behind him. He ignored the increasing volume of the murmurings in the hall and strode purposefully towards his own House table.

It was a good minute after he and Pansy had been seated that Millicent Bulstrode hissed out, "What do you think you were doing? Your father isn't going to be pleased when he hears about this!"

Draco turned toward the only true Dark Lord supporter in his year of Slytherins and blinked lazily. "And why should I care what pleases my father?"

"You'd better care!" Millicent ranted. "Making nice with Potter and that squib and mudblood! You better quit whatever you're thinking! You'll be lucky if you don't get disowned for what you've already done!"

Draco smiled nastily and several of his housemates swallowed nervously; he could be quite vicious when vexed. Millicent ignored his expression and continued to glare angrily. "I assure you, Bulstrode, that there is nothing that my father has that I want. And since you seem so woefully ignorant I will also tell you that my father holds no authority whatsoever in the Malfoy family and could not disown me from the family even if it was his dying wish."

"Your family…" Millicent started angrily but was overridden by Draco.

"Stands by _itself_, Bulstrode," Draco said dangerously. "And I stand with my family. If my father had any sense, he would do so as well."

"The Dark Lord will make you regret your betrayal," Millicent said furiously.

Draco snorted in disgust and shook his head. "You can't betray that which you were never loyal to in the first place, Bulstrode. Do remember that." He turned from the girl and ignored her further threats.

His last words had actually been more for the benefit of some of his housemates. He knew the upper years were being pressed to join the Dark Lord's forces as soon as they graduated and he also knew that only two of them were actually interested. Most of them just wanted to live their lives and pursue their dreams. Hopefully those affected would hear his words and realize that they didn't need to bow to any claims of prior "loyalty." Maybe they would realize they would be better off to flee the country if necessary rather than bow down to a maniac.

Time would tell.

--June 11--

"How do you think you did on the test?" Hermione asked as she, Harry, and Neville took a seat at the small corner table in the kitchens.

"I'm pretty sure I'll get an exceeds," Neville said proudly.

Hermione smiled at Neville. "Congratulations. I know you've been studying really hard. What about you, Harry?"

"I'll get an acceptable at least," Harry said with a shrug. "I might even scrape by with an exceeds but I doubt it. McGonagall's still angry with me so I'll probably get graded really harshly."

"That's not fair," Hermione said crossly then thanked the house-elves that came and loaded their table with food.

Neville immediately started loading his plate. "She doesn't seem too interested in fair lately," he said. "She's been berating _you_ every other day it seems and for nothing that's really important."

"What's up with her?" Harry asked Hermione, eagerly following Neville's example. "I thought I was the only one that McGonagall was angry with."

"Did you forget the 250 points our dear prefect took from her own house?" Neville asked then took a bite of his mashed potatoes. They always did eat better when they visited the kitchen.

Harry looked a bit nonplussed for a moment then said, "Actually, I did."

"Well, _she_ hasn't," Hermione said wryly.

"I'm sorry," Harry said sincerely. "I didn't mean for you to suffer McGonagall's wrath."

"I'm not sorry," Hermione said then pointed her fork at Harry. "And you shouldn't be either. Besides, I don't think it's just the points she's mad about."

"It's not?" Neville asked in surprise.

Hermione shook her head and swallowed the food in her mouth. "No. You remember I had that meeting with her that day you went with Harry?"

"You can say it, Hermione," Harry said with an amused snort. "The day Harry lost it and destroyed the Hufflepuff table. You know, I'm still shocked they were able to replace it by dinner. I mean, where exactly do you find a spare table that size?"

Hermione huffed but didn't bother answering the obviously rhetorical question. "Yes, well, that afternoon she called me to her office and asked me to explain my actions. I'm afraid I wasn't very…"

"Polite?" Harry asked in amusement.

"Politic," Hermione said wryly. "I told her a few truths that she really didn't want to hear and she wasn't very appreciative."

"You did?" Neville asked wide-eyed.

"Why are you so surprised?" Hermione asked with a roll of her eyes. "_You've_ been standing up to people all year, even the _headmaster_."

"Well, that's true," Neville admitted, slightly surprised at the realization. He hadn't really thought about it quite like that.

"So what did you say?" Harry asked curiously as he dumped another large spoonful of mashed potatoes on his plate.

"Well, the first thing I told her was that I hadn't done anything that she shouldn't have already," Hermione said blithely.

Both Harry and Neville winced.

"Ouch," Harry said. "I can imagine the pinched look on her face when you said that."

"Then I told her that if she'd been a decent Housemistress that the problem would likely never have arisen in the first place," Hermione said then protected her plate from the sputtering of her friends.

"Merlin. You didn't," Neville breathed in shock.

Harry just stared in wide-eyed disbelief.

"And that wasn't the worst of it," Hermione said with a superior smirk.

"It _wasn't?_" Neville squeaked. No wonder McGonagall had been such a bear lately.

Harry just continued to stare in speechless amazement.

"I enumerated the duties of a Head of House as listed in _Hogwarts: A History_ and told her which ones I'd never seen her performing in all of my years here. Which was nearly all of them, by the way," Hermione said with narrowed eyes and a firm nod. "I told her that holding three positions at the school was obviously beyond her capabilities and if she was going to ignore one of them nearly completely that she should have the decency to resign the position and let someone else have it. She wasn't happy."

Neville and Harry both stared silently for over minute.

Finally, Harry pulled himself together and said, "Well, if today is anything to go by, she still isn't happy."

"That's her problem, isn't it?" Hermione said firmly.

Harry glanced at Neville, who still seemed somewhat in shock, and said, "Yes, I suppose it is. The truth hurts and all that, right?"

"Absolutely," Hermione said and took a bite of her own dinner.

"You know, I knew I was right that you had "assumed authority" when you took all those points from Colin, but this really proves it," Harry said.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"It's just…you assumed your own authority at breakfast," Harry said thoughtfully. "It was totally obvious in your stance, your bearing, the way you looked at everybody like they were less than a flobberworm. Then this. You held your own against McGonagall when just a month prior you would have been trying to apologize and upset that you'd made her angry."

"And I don't think you see it," Neville added, finally pulling himself together, "but the whole school obeys you now like they do the teachers. Even the Head Girl doesn't have as much practical authority as you've been wielding without a second thought. Most of the students really respect you now instead of seeing you as some unimportant bookworm."

Hermione looked startled at the revelations. "Huh. I didn't realize."

The three were silent for several minutes as Hermione worked over this new piece of information.

"So," Harry said abruptly. "Did she reverse the points you took from Colin?"

Hermione smirked and shook her head. "She couldn't, really, because they'd all been fairly taken. If she'd reversed the points then she would have been opening the door for every student to protest every point they'd lost this year no matter if they'd lost them justly or not. She knew it, too, so she left them alone. Maybe if there hadn't been three hundred witnesses she'd have done it."

"Did the rest of the House give you a bad time?" Harry asked. "I'm sorry I didn't ask before."

Hermione waved off his apology. "Ron yelled at me about it until I took 25 points for disrespecting a prefect and another 25 for using foul language. Nobody said anything after that, although I'm sure they wanted to."

Harry shook his head and laughed. "I'll have to remember not to break any rules while you're around."

"You only have a couple more weeks to worry about it," Hermione said with a bitter smile. "Somehow I just don't see McGonagall letting me keep my position next year."

"I'm sorry," Harry said with a grimace. "I know you really wanted to be Head Girl."

Hermione snorted indelicately. "That hardly matters anymore given that prophecy, now does it? I'm going to be head of something much bigger in just a little while."

"So you've decided to do it?" Neville asked in surprise. "I thought you were still thinking about it."

"I am," Hermione said dismissively then changed the subject. "Anyway, did either of you hear what happened to Colin?"

Both Harry and Neville shook their heads in the negative.

"Oh, then you're going to absolutely _love_ this," Hermione said with obvious relish.

"What?" Harry asked eagerly. "It must be good for you to have that expression on your face."

Hermione leaned back in her chair and waved her fork dramatically. "Trent, that's one of Colin's dorm-mates, came to me and asked for the truth…"

"He did?" Neville interrupted indignantly. "Why hasn't anybody asked _me_?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. Anyway, Trent asked me what really happened and I told him. Don't worry, I asked him not to spill it around because you wanted to control when that information came out and he agreed. So, he asked, I told, and then he went back to the other boys in the dorm, swore them to secrecy, and told them. Now comes the really good part."

Neville and Harry leaned forward in anticipation. If _Hermione_ was so vindictively pleased about this next part, then they couldn't wait to hear it.

"The boys, the fifth year boys, got together and wrote this really long letter to Mr. and Mrs. Creevey about just what it was Colin had been doing while at school. It was a very thorough letter, too. I proofed it for them and offered suggestions and what else to include or attach. I have a copy of the final version if you ever want to see it. Anyway…"

"I want to see it," Neville said immediately.

"Me, too," Harry said. "I wish I could have contributed."

"It was fine," Hermione said reassuringly. "Really, it was beautiful. They covered a lot of specific incidents of when he'd been really pushy and invasive. They went on to say it had gotten so bad that three-quarters of Gryffindor had signed a petition asking for Colin's camera to be taken away and that said petition had resulted in an official written injunction against him in regards to the signers. Did you know that the other Houses copied our idea?"

"They got an injunction against Colin?" Harry asked in surprise.

Hermione nodded. "Everyone in Slytherin and everyone in Ravenclaw and about half the Hufflepuffs."

"Wow," Harry said and turned to Neville. "Did you know?"

Neville shook his head in surprise. "No, but I'm not surprised."

"So they attached copies of the petitions and the official injunctions," Hermione continued.

"That's got to be a lot of parchment," Neville said.

"Then they went on to describe what he'd done that night and the fallout," Hermione continued. "They attached a copy of the article and explained what had _really _happened, in detail so that there would be no mistake that Colin was totally out of line and the article was really damaging. And I had them ask the Creevey parents not to tell anybody about the truth until after you had your next interview. Then they detailed how many points Gryffindor had lost and that it was more points than we'd earned in a whole month. _Then…"_

"What?" Harry asked when Hermione paused. "Come on, no dramatics."

Hermione took a bite of her dinner and ignored the pained groans of the boys. She swallowed her mouthful and primly wiped her mouth before deigning to restart her story. "Then the boys raided Colin's trunk for every single photo – for evidence of his excess, you see – and all his cameras and put them in a box. A big box."

"You let them take things out of Colin's trunk?" Neville asked with raised eyebrows. "Isn't that against school rules? Illegal, even?"

"I didn't know anything about it," Hermione said with a completely fake innocent smile. "I was in the library."

Harry snorted in amusement. "Of _course_ you were," he said with equally fake agreement.

Neville just grinned.

"Then they owled the box and letter to his parents," Hermione said. "I heard from Trent – who just happened to be sitting next to Colin when the letter from his parents came two days later – that Colin won't be getting his cameras back until the start of the school year and then he'll be limited to only one roll of muggle film and one packet of wizard film – a total of about fifty pictures – every month until he finishes school. Trent says that the memory of the look on Colin's face is one he'll treasure forever."

Neville grinned just thinking about it. "No more pictures. Or not very many, anyway. Bliss," he said with an exaggerated sigh of contentment.

Harry snorted. "As long as he doesn't use them all on me," he said cynically.

Hermione and Neville just laughed.

--June 18--

Harry didn't look up as the door to the astronomy tower opened. He'd hoped for a night alone, but had known it was unlikely given the popularity of the tower. Hopefully his new companion wouldn't be averse to keeping to themselves.

"Harry?"

"Hermione?" Harry said as he turned in surprise.

"You mind if I sit with you?" Hermione asked, gesturing to where Harry was sitting on one of the deep window sills.

Harry paused for a moment before answering, "Sure." He moved over so Hermione had room to join him on the wide sill.

Hermione took a seat and was quiet for several minutes. "I miss him, too," she said. "Not as much as you, I'm sure, but I do miss him."

"That's just the thing, though. I'm not sure I do miss him," Harry said softly, guiltily.

Hermione was quiet. She knew Harry would talk when he was ready.

Several more minutes of silence passed before Harry spoke again. "I think I miss the idea of him, you know? He was my godfather, a father-figure that would always love me and help me and put me first. I saw him as an ideal. But the reality was different. We never really got to know each other. It's hard to miss someone you didn't know."

"You knew him well enough," Hermione said softly.

Harry nodded absently. "I was really upset at first, but now not so much. I'm sorry he's gone. I'm sorry we didn't have a lot of time together. I'm sorry I only really got to know him once he was dead."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked curiously.

"I got his journals when he died," Harry said with a small shrug. "I didn't start reading them until after Christmas, though. They're a bit hard to follow because his mind was really messed up after Azkaban, but he wrote about all sorts of topics and it's through them that I actually got to know him as a person."

"They sound interesting," Hermione said. "What kinds of things did he write about?"

"Anything. Everything. Literally," Harry said with a small laugh. "A lot of it was about his Hogwarts years. Half of what he wrote is about every minute piece of information he could recall, from the graffiti on the wall of the boy's bathroom near the Great Hall to descriptions of students and teachers to details about pranks he pulled and whether or not he was sorry about pulling them."

"I hope you don't plan on replicating them," Hermione said warily.

"No," Harry said, shaking his head a little. "The spells are interesting but pranking seems such a bother."

"Well, good," Hermione said with relief.

"He wrote about my parents," Harry said with a small smile as he turned to face his friend. "Some of it's really funny, especially in comparison to what my parents wrote about the same incidents."

Hermione smiled back. "That does sound like it could be funny."

"He knew about my mother," Harry said abruptly.

"Oh? How? And why didn't he say anything?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Because my dad told him," Harry said. "He didn't say anything because, well, a bunch of reasons. He wasn't sure I had gotten the inheritance and didn't want to give me false hope. Even if I hadn't, he was afraid that just the fact that my mother was would put me in danger if it got out. If I had, he was afraid of Dumbledore finding out and convincing me that I had to use my abilities in the war."

"I wonder what he would think now," Hermione mused. "I bet he would find some way to prank your suitors."

Harry laughed in surprise. "Maybe he would, at that."

Hermione smiled at her success in cheering Harry. "I have something for you," she said and pulled a shrunken book from her pocket. She canceled the shrinking spell and passed the book to Harry.

"What is this?" Harry asked as he accepted the book. He opened the cover and gasped. "Hermione?" he asked

"I remember how much you like the album of your parents so I asked Hagrid to help me make one on Sirius," Hermione said. "It's been done for a couple months but I thought today, the anniversary of his death, would be the best time to give it to you. Do you like it?"

Harry turned several pages and smiled at the images he saw in the moving picture. He turned back to his friend with a grateful smile. "Yes, Hermione, I like it very much."

"I'm glad," Hermione said sincerely. "I'll leave you to look through it, then."

"No!" Harry said quickly. "No. Stay with me and look at the pictures?" he offered.

Hermione smiled and the two of them spent the next hour looking at the pictures and making up outlandish stories about what was happening in them. When they finally returned to the tower, Harry felt much better about the loss of his godfather. He packed his new photo album next to the one of his parents and looked forward to sharing it with his grandfather in a few days when Hogwarts let out for the summer.


	24. Interview 4

A/N: This is mostly about my obsessiveness in keeping track of numbers – and also Harry's tests and reasoning. If you don't like the interviews, you could probably skip this chapter and not lose track of the story.

**Chapter 24 – Interview 4**

_The Quibbler, _June Edition_,_ Monday, June16, 1997

_**Current Count of Suitors: 31**_

**Harry Potter Finishes Round Three!**

**Read the exclusive interview with our very own Mr. Xenophilius Lovegood!**

_Our fourth interview with Mr. Harry Potter covers the results of his third round of testing. This will be our last interview with Mr. Potter as he wishes to keep private the details of the remainder of his courtships. We thank Mr. Potter for this opportunity and honor of being the official reporters of his courtships and wish Mr. Potter a bright future and a happy family. Below you will find our conversation that took place in Hogwarts' Great Hall the morning of Sunday, June 15th._

LG:"Good morning, Harry."

HP:"Good morning, sir. How are you today?"

LG:"I am well, thank you. And who is with you today?"

HP:"These are my friends Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, and Lavender Cadbury nee Brown."

LG:"Good morning ladies and gentleman."

F:"Good morning." "Good morning, sir." "Good morning, Mr. Lovegood."

HP:"They're here to help clear up what really happened the night of May 3rd. I'd like to cover that in depth, if you don't mind."

LG:"Of course not. Would you like to start with that?"

HP:"That's not necessary. I thought we'd start like usual. You know, going over the numbers."

LG:"I have to admit I'm quite curious how you managed to go from 352 suitors to only 31. You mentioned in our last interview that you thought quite a number would be eliminated for magic incompatibility. Was that truly the case?"

HP:"Yes, it was. I eliminated 76 for that reason.

LG:"That leaves…276. Funny how that number works out."

HP:(chuckle) "It is. I hadn't noticed before. But then, I didn't keep track the same way."

LG:"That's about twenty percent right there. Did you have problems with those that were incompatible? Did they get angry?"

HP:"Some of them were angry, but most were understanding."

LG: "I'm glad to hear that. So what was your first test after checking for compatibility? I presume you did that first?"

HP:"I did, yes. My tests were all worked into our conversations, so none of them can really be labeled as first or second or whatnot. I'll just go through them? No particular order?"

LG:"Certainly, certainly."

HP:"All right. One was how my suitor viewed my parseltongue ability. I deliberately spoke a phrase in parseltongue at some point during our conversation. Everyone that reacted negatively was eliminated."

LG:"That's generally considered a dark gift."

HP:(snort) "I don't care. I can speak to snakes. Big deal. It doesn't mean that I'm all of a sudden evil incarnate, you know. I'm still me. And speaking to snakes is simply a gift – it's not inherently dark or light in any way. I am not going to hide a part of myself away just because someone has some weird notions about evil wicked snakes or some such."

LG:"So you eliminated anyone who didn't accept you as yourself?"

HP:"Exactly."

LG:"How many?"

HP:"A total of 32 for that reason."

LG:"That leaves…244."

HP:"All right."

LG:"What's next, then?"

HP:"I mentioned in the very first interview that I wanted to travel the world. Any suitor who couldn't, or didn't want to, accommodate that was eliminated. There were a lot of different reasons for that, from job restrictions to personal preference."

LG:"And how many did you eliminate for not being able to support your desire to travel?"

HP:"29."

LG:"Hmmm…215 left."

HP:"Subtract another 19 suitors for unacceptable views on the rights of sentient beings."

LG:"Alright, that's…196. Sentient rights?"

HP:"I'm afraid I don't agree with rounding up Centaurs and putting them in special reserves."

LG:"Oh, well…"

HP:"Or hunting down and exterminating Werewolves or Vampires."

LG:"Yes, I see."

HP:"Or even mandatory sterilization of goblin females after the birth of their second child as a way to control their population."

LG:(pause) "These were all beliefs from your suitors?"

HP:"Unfortunately."

LG:"That surprises me given our first interview."

HP:"I guess they didn't read it."

LG:"I guess not. So…what's next?"

HP:"Um, well, there's environment and support."

LG:"What do you mean by that?"

HP:"I want to live in a magical environment. When I said I had no interest in living in the muggle world I was completely serious."

LG:"Some of your suitors didn't agree?"

HP:"Some of them, no. I don't think less of them for wanting to live in the muggle world, but it's just not what I want. I also have a higher than normal risk of being, shall we say, hunted by unsavory persons. Because of this I require my home to be in a high security environment and warded to the teeth."

LG:"And some didn't agree."

HP:"That's right. And I acknowledge that living under such security can have its drawbacks. However, due to my circumstances, it is a necessity. Anybody who refused to accept that reality was eliminated. Anybody that was unable to accommodate those needs was also eliminated."

LG:"Unable?"

HP:"Some had jobs that required them to live on site. While I could certainly understand the requirement, even support it, it just wasn't compatible with my needs."

LG:"I understand. And support? Do you mean employed with a sufficient income?"

HP:"Yes and no. I have my own money and so I wasn't concerned about how much money a potential mate was earning a year, although I wasn't going to accept a lazy never-do-well."

LG:"Understandable."

HP:"Mostly support means that I want my mate to be around to help raise our children and be my life companion. What's the point in taking a mate that's never around to talk to? Why have a mate that's simply a sire but not a father?"

LG:"So no workaholics."

HP:(laugh) "No."

LG:"And how many did you eliminate for those reasons?"

HP:"21."

LG:"196 minus 21 is…175. A nice number. Still quite a few left to eliminate, though."

HP:"There were 33 who were eliminated for what I call miscellaneous reasons."

LG:"Will you elaborate on what you classified as miscellaneous?"

HP:"No. I'm sorry. Those reasons are highly personal, either for myself or for my former suitors."

LG:"Would all those who didn't pass the fertility test be classified here?"

HP:"I'm not willing to comment on that."

LG:"That's all right. So that leaves…142. Only 111 more to eliminate. Another clever number."

HP:"They withdrew."

LG:(pause) "All of them?"

HP:"Yes."

LG:"Do you know why?"

HP:"Yes. There were 37 that withdrew for personal reasons that had nothing to do with May's lovely little scandal."

LG:(pause) "That leaves…74 that withdrew because of…the scandal."

HP:"That's right."

LG:"That's almost as many as from magic incompatibility."

HP:"So it is."

LG:"I'm presuming that the scandal isn't what it seemed or was reported as?"

HP:"Do you now?"

LG:"I know we're not best friends, Harry, but I'd like to think that I know you well enough to realize that you wouldn't do what you were being accused of. Not to mention that I have complete faith in my daughter's assessment of people."

HP:"I'm sorry. I'm still somewhat bitter over the situation but I shouldn't be taking it out on you. I apologize."

LG:"That's all right. I've never been in quite your situation, I admit, but I'd like to think I can sympathize with the bad press."

HP:(laugh) "I guess you can."

LG:"So 74 suitors made a very big mistake?"

HP:(laugh) "Oh, yes. Huge. But, really, good riddance. I certainly don't need a mate that's going to think the worst of me and not even ask me what happened."

LG:"So the 31 left asked you what happened before making a judgment?"

HP:"Actually, no. Those remaining 31 understood what happened without me having to explain."

LG:"But how is that possible?"

HP:"They extrapolated known facts into a logical and correct conclusion."

LG:"I think I must be missing some facts."

HP:"Probably. And because you're not courting me, that doesn't upset me at all."

LG:"And if I had been…?"

HP:"Then you should have known."

LG:"Will you explain?"

HP:"Of course. This is part of what I want clarified about the scandal. What do you know about Désespoir?"

LG:"I'm afraid my French isn't that good."

HP:"It means desperation, but that's not the point. It's the name of the condition suffered by nearly all Veela and half-Veela submissives and is discussed in depth in the intermediate book about Veela available from the Veela Council."

LG:"And so you expected your suitors to be aware of it."

HP:"Yes. In a bit I'll tell you, and your readers, some cold hard facts about Désespoir."

LG:"All right."

HP:"What do you know about magical agitation and sensitivity?"

LG:"You mean like what you have now because of opening your magic so much over the past months?"

HP:"Exactly."

LG:"Just the basics, really."

HP:"Well, I'll get into some cold, hard facts about that, too."

LG:"And this is something your suitors should have known as well, isn't it? It's been mentioned before in our interviews."

HP:"Yes. After that I'll talk some about calming influences, magical shock, hypothermia, physical shock…"

LG:"Hypothermia?"

HP:"Yes, hypothermia, like part what I was experiencing that night."

LG:"Goodness."

HP:"Then I'll do some addition of dates before I start in on what memories I have of that night."

LG:"You don't remember that night?"

HP:"Not very well, no. When I'm done with my part, my friends will tell their side."

LG:"That sounds reasonable. I look forward to it."

HP:"I'll warn you now that there were many things discussed that night and most of those things are private and won't be relayed except in the vaguest sense. No details."

LG:"Of course, of course. That's not a problem."

HP:"Do you have any questions before I get started?"

LG:"No, I don't think so."

HP:"All right, then. Let's start with Désespoir. Désespoir is the name given to the degenerative condition…


	25. Hermione's Summer

**Updated 5/28/2008** - fixed room dimensions. Cookies to rotsapv!

**Updated 5/21/2008** - fixed reference error September to October

A/N: Today Hermione, tomorrow Neville, then back to Harry. These two chapters are because I wanted to explore the two friends and their lives. There is no chapter on Lavender, however. I didn't spend as much time thinking about her and she continues to be an adjunct. More about Pansy is in Neville's chapter.

**Chapter 25 – Hermione's Summer**

--June 21--

Hermione glared at the man sitting across from her calmly sipping his tea. He smiled and she scowled back at him. She transferred her scowl to the open box in front of her. This was…something.

Oh, the contents of the box were easily identifiable. There was a torc sitting there on its blue velvet padding. It was a nice golden torc with engravings of squirrels along it. And the squirrels on the torc just happened to suspiciously have the same markings as her own squirrel form.

Her emotions, however, were not so easily identifiable. She'd been surprised, then frightened, then angry, then dumbfounded and all those emotions now blended and swirled with the healthy amount of suspicion she'd approached this meeting with in the first place. Now, as she continued to stare at the centuries old torc (she'd checked the date with a spell), she wasn't sure what she felt.

She'd never told anyone about her animagus form. _No one._ Not even Harry.

She'd been fascinated by the concept of being an animagus from her very first exposure to magic in the form of an extremely convincing display by a visiting Professor McGonagall when the professor had come to explain about Hogwarts. A book about how to become an animagus had been one of her first non-schoolbook purchases at Flourish and Blotts. She'd been studying to become an animagus since before she'd even seen the Hogwarts Express. As she couldn't practice wand magic during the summers she had turned to studying non-wand magic, like runes and arithmancy and potions. And becoming an animagus.

She'd actually _been_ a full-fledged animagus since just before she'd started her fourth year. Three years of concerted study had given her success on August 27, 1994. She'd been ecstatic and had pranced about in the trees in her backyard for nearly four hours. The next day she had snagged her mother's tripod and camera, the one with the timer, and had very meticulously set up everything just right so she could take an entire roll of film worth of pictures of her form. She still had all twenty-seven of those pictures in a small album in her room.

And this 600-year-old torc looked as if _she_ had been the model.

It was…creepy.

It was also very convincing.

Her squirrel form was, after all, the only reason she had even agreed to this meeting. The prophecy Harry relayed had mentioned a squirrel. The Unspeakables had several reasons why they thought she was their squirrel. She _was_ a squirrel. She hated divination, but it was a bit hard to argue with so many coincidences all gathered together.

"We can teach you how to be an animagus," Rookwood said mildly. "It takes several years of training and practice but I'm sure you won't have any problems."

Hermione looked up from the torc and raised an eyebrow at the man.

"It's an immense advantage if you find yourself in a tight spot," Rookwood said.

"I don't need help," Hermione said blandly.

"I'm sure you could accomplish the transformation on your own," Rookwood agreed. "However, it's much easier if you have a tutor."

"I'm sure," Hermione said with a smirk. "But I don't need help. I've been an animagus almost three years now." She smirked wider when the man choked on his tea.

"I see," Rookwood said after he'd recovered and cleaned himself up. "You did that on purpose."

"No, actually, but it was certainly satisfying," Hermione said, still smirking.

Rookwood chuckled. "I suppose it was, at that. So, you're already a squirrel?"

"Yes."

"Grey?"

"Yes."

"Marked like that," Rookwood gestured towards the torc.

"Yes," Hermione said then added pointedly, "I'm sure you didn't expect any different."

"No, I didn't," Rookwood admitted. "But I just wanted to be sure. So, will you come?"

Hermione turned her attention back to the torc. She picked it up and examined it more closely. It felt right in her hands. "Your future will require a leap of faith," she murmured.

"Pardon?" Rookwood said.

"Something Trelawney said to me just before I left Hogwarts yesterday," Hermione said. "I thought she was just being batty, but now I wonder."

"She's batty," Rookwood said with a chuckle. "Never wonder about that. It doesn't mean she's not a true seer, however."

"So, I put this on and, just like magic, I'll suddenly become a calmer person," Hermione said. "My drive to learn everything will wane."

"No," Rookwood denied with a shake of his head. "Your desire to learn everything will be tempered. Right now, you're desperate. Your thoughts are always overshadowed by the feeling that you have to learn as much as you can _right now_, that there _isn't enough time_ to learn everything you _need_ to. Correct?"

Hermione nodded but kept her eyes on the torc. "Yes. Nobody really understands how I feel. They think I'm just obsessive."

"You _are_ obsessive," Rookwood said. "Just as every Unspeakable before you and every Unspeakable after you. Nobody but us can ever truly understand the absolute _desperation_ that we feel to learn _everything_. Putting on that torc will curb the obsession. You'll be able to enjoy other activities without feeling guilty about not learning a new fact every minute. But your _drive _to learn won't disappear. It's just that that nebulous _thing_ that you've always been striving for will now be fulfilled."

"And I'll be your leader," Hermione said.

"Yes," Rookwood agreed. "You'll be our new leader."

"Just like that?" Hermione asked doubtfully.

"Yes," Rookwood said. "Just like that."

"Because the Gods have willed it," Hermione said in disbelief.

"Just so," Rookwood said calmly. "You won't be the first leader to not like the idea of divine intervention. The Gods must not mind, though, or they wouldn't have picked you."

"Lovely," Hermione said sourly.

"Will you join us?" Rookwood asked quietly.

Hermione looked up once again. "Tell me about these secrets."

Rookwood nodded. "Just days before Voldemort's fall the Unspeakables finally discovered how to modify the fidelius spell. The old version was one secret, one secret keeper. If a second secret was desired, a second secret keeper needed to be found. But we changed it, exponentiated it. Now, with one secret keeper there is still only one secret, but two keepers can hold four secrets, three keepers can hold nine secrets, four keepers can hold sixteen secrets…"

"And one hundred keepers can hold ten thousand secrets," Hermione finished softly in understanding.

"Yes."

"_The Squirrel who shall reveal ten thousand secrets…"_ Hermione repeated. "To the King. To Harry's seventh son."

"So we believe," Rookwood said in agreement.

"And how many secrets do you hold right now?" Hermione asked. "Ninety-nine squared?"

"No, not yet," Rookwood admitted with a grimace. "We're working on it but it takes about a day to set up all the runic anchors around an area and cast the spell. There are only so many days in a year and we've only had this new spell for not quite sixteen years. Right now we hold 3,382 secrets."

"That's a long way to go and not much time left to get everything hidden before Voldemort starts rampaging," Hermione said grimly.

"I know," Rookwood said. "But we have limited man-power. The new fidelius takes ten times more preparation than the old one and it takes twenty people all day to set up and hide one secret. Even if all of us were free to set up the secrets, that's still only five a day."

"Another three or four years," Hermione said after a moment's mental calculation.

"Yes. At the least. There are only thirty of us working on this now, though. We're doing our best but we still have duties within the Ministry and…"

"Why?" Hermione asked.

"Why…what?" Rookwood asked in confusion.

"Why do you still have duties within the Ministry?" Hermione clarified.

"We still have to maintain our cover," Rookwood answered. "We can't all just disappear."

"Why not?" Hermione asked. "Why can't you stage a very unfortunate accident while working with experimental charms and kill off a score of you or more?"

Rookwood was silent a moment. "I suppose that's possible," he admitted eventually. "We've been quitting, retiring, and killing ourselves fairly steadily, though, so as not to raise suspicions. I'm not sure how the Ministry would react if we had a mass death like that."

Hermione hummed a non-committal sound. "Are you my second in command?"

"Yes," Rookwood said. "You will join us?"

Hermione nodded once, slowly. "Yes. I will join you." She closed her eyes and raised the torc to her neck. She hesitated just a moment then remembered Trelawney's words and set the torc in place.

Magic swirled and swirled.

--June 30--

_**Unspeakables Decimated!**_

_A horrible accident in the experimental charms section of the Department of Mysteries resulted in a fiery explosion that killed nearly half the Unspeakables yesterday. Inside information reveals that work was being done on a new shield that was hoped to protect against the killing curse but the shield backfired…_

"You know, decimated actually means to reduce by ten percent," Hermione said absently. "Decimated, as in decimal."

"_The Prophet_ is hardly known for their vocabulary," Irma Pince said with a sniff.

Hermione looked up from her reading and smiled at the approaching woman in amusement. "No, I suppose not."

"Are you done with that horrid paper yet?" Irma asked with a grimace of distaste.

"I only just started!" Hermione protested.

"Right. Are you done?" Irma repeated.

Hermione rolled her eyes but tossed the paper aside. "Yes. I'm done. What do you need?"

"You have a letter," Irma said, holding out a light green envelope. "It's from your friend inviting you to his grandfather's estate for the last two weeks in August."

"You're reading my mail?" Hermione asked in surprise.

Irma merely raised an eyebrow.

Hermione scowled as she remembered the several seers she had on staff. "Right. Never mind."

"You should go," Irma continued. "He's going to be very upset and will need a logical mind to sort him out."

"Why?" Hermione asked quickly in concern. "What's going to happen to him?"

"He's just going to realize that he sabotaged his courtships way back in October," Irma said with a shrug. "It's going to upset him and you'll need to set him straight."

Hermione blinked in surprise. "What did he do?"

"Unknown," Irma answered.

"Do you know who his mate will be?" Hermione asked curiously.

"A Veela or half-Veela," Irma said. "The imagery is always a hawk."

Hermione sighed and accepted the envelope. "All right. Thank you."

Irma Pince took a seat and watched as her new leader opened her letter and read through it with small smile. Irma had been the one to identify Hermione Granger as the new leader of the Unspeakables. She'd nearly cried in joy and relief the first time she had seen the unmistakable bushy hair and buckteeth on the eager little Gryffindor. They'd been without a leader nearly five years by then…

"Are you all right with me being your leader?" Hermione asked suddenly.

Irma frowned. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Lots of reasons," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "My age. My blood status. My gender. My complete and utter lack of experience in a leadership capacity. The fact that _you've_ been in authority over _me_ for the past six years."

"All of those things are immaterial," Irma said firmly. "You were chosen, therefore you are an appropriate choice."

Hermione groaned slightly and rubbed her temples at the circular logic. "I didn't know you were religious."

Irma fought a smile. She'd long known the young woman was going to have problems accepting the more divine aspects of the Unspeakables. "Have faith."

"My leaps of faith are all used up this month," Hermione said sardonically.

Irma did smile this time. "Augustus told us what Trelawney said to you. Are you sure it was a singular leap of faith she was referencing?"

Hermione scowled. "Who knows? I hate divination."

"You'll get used to it," Irma reassured her leader. "Shall we continue with history lessons about our lovely organization? Or would you like to summon another Unspeakable for a meet-and-greet?"

Hermione winced at the wording. The squirrel torc she wore connected magically to each of the torcs worn by the ninety-nine Unspeakables that reported to her. Her torc was the master and as such allowed her many liberties. One of those liberties was the ability to summon one or more of her people to her side. It rather strongly reminded her of Voldemort's Dark Mark. At least the summons never caused pain, just a varying sense of urgency.

"Actually, I had some questions about the fidelius you've set up around Hogwarts," Hermione said. "If you just happen to know of a passage that goes from inside a secret to outside a secret, can you still get into the secret if you don't know where the secret is but do know where the passage is?"

Hermione saw the wild-eyed look that came over her head of recruitment and sighed. "Right. Let me tell you about a couple of secret passages into Hogsmeade…"

--July 9--

"Augustus! You can't just hide Buckingham Palace!" Hermione cried in exasperation.

"It shouldn't be left to Voldemort!" Augustus argued back fervently. "Once it becomes obvious that he can attack muggles with impunity, Voldemort will start targeting muggle landmarks in an attempt to demoralize the population and get them to leave the Isles of their own accord. What bigger blow than destroying the monarchy? It may be mostly be for show, but it means a lot to the muggles."

Hermione groaned. "Fine. Fine. Hide the Palace."

Rookwood grinned. "Thank you," he said and gathered his papers to leave.

"Not this year, though, Augustus. Do you hear me?" Hermione called to the retreating man.

Augustus didn't make any indication that he'd heard his leader.

"Do you hear me, Augustus! Not this year! It's too early! Augustus! You activate that fidelius without my consent and I'll have your balls! Augustus! Augustus!"

"Blasted man!" Hermione groused and a slapped a hand down flat onto the table in frustration. She diligently ignored the giggles coming from her left. Instead, she glared at her head of agriculture.

"I've acquired a herd of ostriches," Jacob Silverman said with a perfectly straight face.

Hermione stared at the man dumbfounded.

"Their meat is better for you than beef and they don't require as much land to raise," Jacob continued.

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. There were some definite perquisites to being the head of the Unspeakables, but today she rather felt she was earning every one of them.

--July 17--

"The Minister wants us to replace all those we lost in the explosion," Margaret, the Ministry liaison, said with a sigh. "This is why we didn't do this before. Now we'll have to recall all our other operatives. Those who aren't supposedly dead, anyway."

Hermione looked around the table at her dozen department heads and saw frustration, anger, and disappointment. Nobody looked happy. She snorted in annoyance. Honestly. She leaned forward in her seat as everyone turned to look at her. She stared them all down until even Rookwood started fidgeting.

"For shame," Hermione said as she glared at each of her people. "Do none of you see the advantages here?"

"I thought the whole point of killing off so many…" Petrus started angrily but fell silent under the icy glare of his leader. "No, miss, I'm afraid I'm missing the advantages," he said respectfully.

Hermione swept her gaze across the others. "Anyone?" Various negative responses were her answer. "Think outside the box," she said as a hint then let out an exasperated snort at all the blank faces she received.

"That phrase means, basically, to think creatively," Hermione elaborated. "To step out of the rut of ingrained thinking patterns."

Still no one had any response.

"Let me ask you a question," Hermione said with a shake of her head. "We're supposed to hire thirty new people. So…why don't we?"

"But we already have all hundred of us," Margaret said in confusion.

Hermione shook her head again and reiterated, "We're supposed to hire thirty new people. So…why don't we?"

There were several more moments of silence then Jacob asked, "What would we have them do?"

"Whatever the Ministry asked them to," Hermione said flatly but with a nod of approval to Jacob, who seemed to be the only one picking up the possibilities. "Just because their job title would be Unspeakable doesn't mean that they would be a true Unspeakable."

"Decoys," Augustus said, also now understanding his leader's thoughts.

"Not just decoys, but, yes, that would be one of their functions," Hermione said. "We hire them, we maybe even ask for more money to train them, we assign them to all the Ministry duties. All we need to do is provide the new employees with a reasonable framework for their new and mysterious job and an apparent hierarchy. Other than that, we don't worry about them."

"We could actually hire worthwhile people and have an excellent fake department," Irma said enthusiastically. Having figured out the ruse being proposed, she embraced the idea wholeheartedly.

"You have suggestions?" Hermione asked in interest.

"Yes," Irma said with a grin. "I can think of a dozen or more people just off the top of my head in many different fields. I could find people for potions, fighting, research, investigation, administration, anything. There's a lot of untapped potential in the students I've seen graduate."

Hermione leaned back and pulled at her hair thoughtfully. Her original idea had been to simply hire a bunch of people whose primary duty would be to keep the Ministry off the backs of the real Unspeakables. And if these people picked up some good defense training while doing so, well, all the better for them. But Irma was suggesting actually getting _useful_ people that could become valuable to the organization. "How fast do you think you could get them?"

"Give me a week," Irma said boldly.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at Irma's obvious confidence but nodded her approval nevertheless. A moment later she was shaking her head in disbelief at the quivering eagerness apparent in her head of recruitment and administration. Irma Pince was such a completely different person when outside of Hogwarts; the staid personality was obviously left in the library.

"Since Irma has the people covered, let's talk about what we might want these new staff members to do that could help us but still not reveal our true existence," Hermione said. "Keep in mind that they'll have to be available for the Ministry tasks. Also, we need to determine who will be their nominal boss or bosses. Now, who has ideas…?"

--July 24--

"You want me to hire the Weasley twins?" Hermione asked in disbelief.

"To be apprenticed under Leslie for spell crafting and Jonas for potions," Irma said with a firm nod.

"You do realize that they're complete menaces, don't you?" Hermione asked slowly. "You can't have forgotten all the trouble they caused at Hogwarts."

"All the better," Irma said with a smirk. "Just think what they could come up with if given a proper goal and decent funding."

"I shudder to think," Hermione said with a sigh. She rubbed her temples a moment then waved her approval. "Who's next?"

"Gary Anderson," Irma replied as she set aside the Weasley folder.

"Wasn't he Head Boy my first year?" Hermione asked with a frown.

"Yes," Irma confirmed. "He just finished his mastery in trans-dimensional space applications and is looking for a job. He was actually hoping to work for Larson's Custom Tents, but I doubt he'd pass up an opportunity to, supposedly, join the Unspeakables."

"True," Hermione said. She shook her head then and said wryly, "I don't know why we're bothering with this review. We both know I'm going to ratify all your choices."

"That doesn't mean you shouldn't know who I've chosen," Irma said diplomatically.

"I suppose so," Hermione agreed. She leaned an elbow on the table then rested her head on her upraised fist. "You know, I don't feel like much of a leader. All of you simply tell me what you've been doing and what you want and I just nod my head and agree."

"You put your foot down when Jacob wanted to create a banana plantation," Irma offered.

Hermione gave a small laugh and smiled. "That's true. But, really, what kind of _leader_ have I been. I sit in meetings, I nod in agreement, and the rest of the time I spend learning just what I'm supposed to be doing in the first place."

Irma leaned back in her chair and regarded the young woman sitting at the head of the table. Their new leader had been doing so well that no one had thought she might be having a few doubts.

"First off, you've done much more than simply _sit_ in meetings," Irma said firmly. "You're a natural facilitator and have increased the efficiency and productivity of our meetings three-fold. You keep our meetings on topic, stop disagreements, encourage ideas, and ensure we finish in a reasonable amount of time."

"You may feel that your agreement to our proposals is simply a foregone conclusion and of no real importance but that's not true," Irma continued passionately. "We had been leaderless for nearly eleven years. That's eleven _years_ of carrying on with our last set of orders and worrying over whether we were doing the appropriate things. Don't underestimate the power of an approving nod. Just knowing that your leader feels you're doing a good job and that your proposals have merit is a great feeling. I can't even tell you how much morale has improved since you met everyone individually and told them what a good job they'd been doing."

"And as for you spending so much time learning…" Irma paused to laugh lightly. "I guess you don't know how much pride we feel when we see you learning whatever you can to be a good leader. We look at you and puff out our chests and say, "That's _our_ leader. _Our_ leader cares enough about our organization to want to learn all about it. _Our_ leader is working hard to learn all that she needs to know. _Our_ leader is dedicated to being the best." It's even worse for those of us who tutor you privately. Why, we practically strut around like peacocks over the fact that _we_ got to help _personally_!"

"So don't think for a minute that you're not a good leader," Irma finished vehemently.

Hermione stared at Irma in stunned amazement. It was true that she'd given no thought to the consequences of her actions in the meetings or her sincere words to each of her people. She'd certainly never have imagined that there would be such repercussions as described. As for the last…well, she _could _imagine Augustus, at least, strutting about. The man was positively insufferable at times.

Slowly, Hermione gave a shy smile. "Thank you," she said softly.

"You're welcome," Irma said kindly.

--July 31--

"He liked your present very much and he made it safely through third stage this morning. He's eating a large stack of strawberry waffles for breakfast and plans to relax and take the next couple days off from his courting," Michael Bartlett said as his leader entered into his workshop followed by her second.

Hermione stopped abruptly then closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. She positively hated it when one of her seers answered her questions before she'd even had a chance to ask them. It was even worse if the questions were ones she hadn't even planned on asking. She was sure they did it on purpose just to fluster her. "Thank you, Michael," she said with forced calm.

"You're welcome," Michael said with a grin. "What can I do for you?"

"You're actually going to let me tell you?" Hermione asked sarcastically as she dropped her hand and stared at her head seer. She very deliberately ignored the crystal balls, pendulums, incense, candles, teacups, and various other divinatory paraphernalia that was scattered seemingly haphazardly all around the twenty by twenty foot square room.

"Yeah. All we've been able to figure out is that it has something to do with children and getting them out of the country," Michael said, still smiling. "We don't have any specifics, though. Foreknowledge is the most imprecise aspect of divination."

"Right," Hermione sighed. Despite the assurances she'd received, she didn't quite believe that she would ever get used to the seers. She decided to ignore her discomfiture and simply get on with business. "I want the names and addresses of every muggle-born witch and wizard that's not yet been contacted by Hogwarts. Is that possible?"

"Everything is possible," Michael replied piously.

"Michael!" Hermione said in annoyance.

"All right! All right!" Michael said, holding up his hands in surrender. "That's a two step process. First we'd have to divine one thing – either a location or a name – and then the other. There's going to be a lot of options, though, so focusing in on just one will take some triangulation. We could do it, but it might take us a while. What kind of time-frame were you hoping for?"

Hermione ignored the question and asked, "What if you narrowed the search parameters? For instance, what if you try to divine only the ten-year-olds or nine-year-olds? For that matter, why not try looking for witches born this month, then wizards born this month, then witches born last month, etcetera, etcetera?"

Michael looked thoughtful at the suggestion then grinned and nodded. "That would really help. We'd still only be able to find a few each day, though, given what else we have on our plates."

"That's more than acceptable," Hermione said in relief. "In fact, I only need you to find one per week and get their information to Augustus. He'll assign someone to either get the whole family moved or to kidnap and relocate the child, whatever is deemed appropriate. Maybe you can even help with that determination. Start with the eldest ones, if you please. I know it's too late this year, but I don't want a single muggle-born contacted by Hogwarts next year."

"Consider it done," Michael said. "After we've found everyone, I presume you want us to keep an eye out for new births?"

"Yes," Hermione acknowledged. "I also want…"

--August 8--

Hermione looked around at her department heads and wondered just how much consternation she was going to engender when she made her next suggestion. "I want to start looking for likely candidates to relocate to Loch Tay…"

"But that's our town!" Jonas protested in surprise. The others joined in with their own shocked objections.

"And it's quite big enough to add some lead scholars and master craftsmen," Hermione said with a glare at her people. "It was a hard-won lesson for me, but not all knowledge is held in books."

"I know that," Jonas said, still miffed over the idea of outsiders invading the home village of the Unspeakables.

"Pursuit and preservation of knowledge," Hermione quoted back to her staff. "What good will it be if the new era dawns and we've no one knowledgeable to help teach the people or start the rebuilding?"

"But why Loch Tay?" Jacob asked in agitation. "Why not somewhere else?"

"Where else has the infrastructure to support them?" Hermione asked sensibly.

"Hogsmeade," Jacob said immediately.

"Which Voldemort knows about and we're not protecting until late," Hermione countered.

"What about one of the secreted places?" Irma asked, also obviously unhappy about the suggestion.

"And which one of them can support a population of two or three hundred people who all probably need someone to look after them so they remember to eat and sleep?" Hermione asked.

"What about Hogwarts?" Augustus asked, though his face betrayed his knowledge that that wasn't a good suggestion.

"Even if Dumbledore allowed it, which I doubt, that would only make the school that much bigger of a target," Hermione said. "Since it's planned as the last secret, using it in this manner would be a bad idea."

There were quite a few grumbles but nobody else spoke up.

"You don't like it?" Hermione asked, already knowing the answer, and watched in satisfaction as everybody shook their heads vehemently and uttered varying denials. "Then find me another solution because we're hiding the scholars and craftsmen one way or another."

Hermione sat back and observed the commotion as twelve people desperately tried to find a way to keep their home from being invaded. She'd been counting on this response. She liked all of her people – they were all highly knowledgeable and extremely competent – but they were stuck in a decade-old rut. They needed something, something big, to shock them into thinking creatively.

Just as soon as they came up with the idea of using a muggle high-rise apartment building or two she'd pass over the list she'd made of all the ways she could think of that the individual apartments could be expanded and upgraded with the use of magic.

--August 16--

"Yes, yes, I have everything," Hermione said for the third time. "And even if I forgot something, I'm only going to France, not the moon! Honestly, Augustus, who'd have thought you're such a mother hen?"

Augustus ignored the rhetorical question and handed his leader a small journal. "This is a two-way journal in case you need to speak with me for any reason."

Hermione accepted the journal with a thank you and stuffed it into her already full bag. "And you'll send a call through the torcs if you need my attention, correct?"

"Of course," Augustus said with a nod. "Have a good time."

"I will," Hermione said and pulled out the portkey Harry had sent to her. She narrowed her eyes and pointed a finger at her second. "Buckingham Palace had better still be around when I get back. Disney World or bust."

The last thing Hermione saw after the portkey's activation phrase was Augustus' grin. Several moments of swirling later she barely kept her balance as she and her trunk landed with a thump on a very nice white marble floor in an exceptionally beautiful and classy receiving room right in front of a nervously pacing Harry Potter.

"Hermione!" Harry cried and engulfed his friend in an enthusiastic hug.

"Harry! I'm glad to see you!" Hermione said and hugged back with equal fervor before parting and looking at her friend. She immediately noted the wildness in Harry's eyes.

"Oh, Harry, whatever it is, we'll fix it," Hermione said earnestly.

Harry laughed a little hysterically. "This can't be fixed, Hermione."

"Then we'll find a way to deal with it," Hermione said firmly. "Now, this room is gorgeous but I'm sure the rest of the estate is equally pretty. Why don't you give me a tour? You'll have to show me your room. And didn't you say that you loved the gardens here? I want to see those, too. And…"

"All right!" Harry said with a laugh. "I'll show you around. We have all day, too. Grandfather had some business to take care of so you won't get to meet him until dinner. Neville's arriving this afternoon, though, so we have to come back here to meet him. Let's go to the gardens first. I think they're prettiest in the morning…


	26. Neville's Summer

**Updated 5/23/2008** - Cookies to HeavenGoddess who corrected my French school name! Also, word changed to better reflect emotions.

A/N: Harry's mistake. (wicked grin) You'll all find out inn 27 & 28…. Of course, I had to fix an error about it last chapter – in case anyone wants to try and track it down, the mistake was made in _October_, not September. Very, very sorry!! (smacks forehead) And to think I messed it up in 27 and called it November and had to fix it there, too. Sheesh, I need a timeline. Wait, I already have a timeline… Bad author… (shakes head)

The General – You'll hear more about the General in the last chapter.

No Harry in this chapter either except a teensy bit at the end. (laughs wickedly and runs for cover)

_Cookies for JDL45 _who discerned my dastardly plot (mwa ha ha ha ha!)

**Chapter 26 – Neville's Summer**

Draco Malfoy came to visit Neville Longbottom on July 31. It was the first full day of Neville's adulthood and Draco was counting on Longbottom responding like the man he now was and not reject out of the hand the proposal that was going to be presented to him. Draco announced himself to the house elf that came to let him in to the manor and half a minute later was being escorted outside and to the master of the house.

Draco admired the gardens as he was led through them and towards a large greenhouse; they were different than the Malfoy gardens, more wild, but still beautiful. Longbottom obviously took very good care of them. There was a small patio in front of the greenhouse that held a small stone-top table and two chairs of white-painted ironwork. He could see Longbottom washing his hands and face in the tall thin fountain off to the side of the patio.

As he stepped onto the patio a second house-elf arrived and placed a tea set on the table before going over to Longbottom and holding out a towel.

Draco waited until the other man had finished drying his face and hands then said, "Good morning, Longbottom. I hope I'm not interrupting anything urgent."

"Good morning, Malfoy," Neville said as he returned the towel to the attending elf. "Just some harvesting, not to worry. What brings you to my estate?" He gestured Malfoy over to the table and took the opposite seat. He wondered just what Malfoy was doing here. If he was here about Harry, he was going to be awfully disappointed. He poured tea for them both.

Draco accepted the tea that was passed to him and took a polite sip before setting down the cup and pulling out a scroll from his robe pocket. He placed the pristine white scroll with its silver ribbon in front of his host.

Neville froze in shock.

Draco finally got impatient as Longbottom continued to stare speechlessly. "For Merlin's sake, Longbottom, it's not going to bite you."

Neville was startled out of his stunned astonishment and looked up at Malfoy in amazement. "That's a betrothal contract," he said.

"So it is," Draco said. "One I'd like you to seriously consider."

Neville paused for several moments before responding. This had _not_ been expected. "Just whom do you have the right to bargain for, Malfoy?" he asked, still very much surprised.

Draco looked off to the side for a moment before turning his eyes back to Longbottom. "Pansy Parkinson," he said.

Neville stared at his guest in disbelief. "What about her father?" he asked in confusion.

Draco sneered and said, "He lost all his paternal rights to her. I saw to that."

"What did you do, Malfoy?" Neville asked, curiosity now blending with his overall astonishment at the situation.

"I initiated the Rite of Forfeit," Draco said and raised his chin defiantly.

"You didn't!" Neville's squeaked. "That was really dangerous."

Draco snorted in derision. "It wasn't dangerous at all," he refuted. "The man had positively relinquished his rights as her father. I know what all the books say; that it can take hours for magic to judge the situation and that you feel like you've been attacked by a score of bludgers afterwards. But it wasn't like that for me. The whole process took only a couple of minutes and it wasn't harsh at all. It was that unequivocal."

"Merlin," Neville breathed. He didn't want to think about what the situation must have been for a result like that but was afraid that he already knew. "Is this why you were, uh…"

"Such a prick in school?" Draco finished in amusement. "Yes, actually. I needed to watch out for Pansy, but with my father still in control of _me_…Well, let's just say that he often used Pansy as a guarantee of my _appropriate_ behavior."

Neville grimaced in disgust. Merlin, Lucius was more of a bastard than he'd ever thought. "Why did you choose me?" he asked.

"I didn't," Draco said with a small smirk. "Pansy did."

"All right," Neville said agreeably, though he was now even more surprised. He couldn't remember ever talking to the girl. "Why did Pansy choose me?"

"She wrote you a letter," Draco said and pulled an envelope from his robe and set it on the table.

Neville stared at the envelope, then at Malfoy, then at the scroll. He closed his eyes a moment then opened them and snapped his fingers for a house-elf. He quietly requested a contract quill and reached for the scroll. He'd only managed to untie the scroll and start the auto-rolling feature before the house-elf returned with the quill.

"What are you doing, Longbottom?" Draco asked in confusion. "You can't possibly read that fast."

Neville had a determined expression on his face as he ignored Malfoy's question. Once the scroll finished rolling to the end, he readied the quill and quickly signed the contract.

"What are you doing, Longbottom?" Draco cried in alarm as he stood up quickly, causing the chair to skitter backwards and almost topple. "You're supposed to read it before you sign it! Even imbeciles read a betrothal contract before they sign it!"

Malfoy continued on in this vein for some time and Neville just stared at him. When Malfoy paused to take a deep breath, Neville said quietly, "If you can keep your mouth shut about something, Malfoy, I'll tell you a secret."

Draco snapped his mouth shut and stared at Longbottom sitting as calm as could be, as if he hadn't just signed a contract that would drastically affect the rest of his life. Draco took a deep breath then retrieved his chair and sat back down. He glared silently and waited for an explanation.

Neville set the betrothal contract to rolling back up the beginning then took several sips of his tea. Eventually he'd gathered his thoughts and started his story. "I don't know how it is in your family, but in the Longbottom family all the males in the direct line of succession go through a Rite of Ascension on their seventeenth birthday. During this rite, the new heir is given a vision of who his wife is to be."

Draco opened his mouth then closed it as Longbottom waved him quiet.

"That's all I knew about the rite before I went into it," Neville said. "I expected to see a picture of my wife-to-be, a snapshot from which I could identify her easily." Neville gave a short mirthless laugh. "But that wasn't what happened at all."

"What did happen?" Draco asked quietly, his curiosity piqued, despite his aggravation, at learning details about another family's ascension rite.

Neville smiled grimly. "I had a vision."

Draco stared. "A vision," he repeated.

Neville looked away and swirled his tea. "I was standing in a meadow," he said quietly. "I was about to start studying the plants when a small fox suddenly ran out of the surrounding woods and into the meadow. Somehow, I knew it was a female and that she was pretty young. She was injured but was running as fast as she could. Just moments later a big fox also ran out of the woods. Somehow, I knew that this fox was the father of the little fox. He caught the little fox and attacked her."

"Merlin," Draco whispered in a strangled tone.

Neville ignored the soft exclamation and continued. "I couldn't do anything other than watch. It was like I wasn't allowed to interfere. The big fox…well, he really hurt the little fox. And then he left. The little fox was _dying _and he just _left_. The little fox was whimpering in pain but she eventually got up the strength to let out this really plaintive howl. It was awful."

Draco grabbed his tea and took a large gulp then set the teacup back down, ignoring the rattling it made due to his shaky hands. "What then?" he whispered.

Neville continued to swirl his tea while staring out over the gardens. "Then I heard the cry of a hawk. I looked up and in the sky was a hawk coming towards the fox. The hawk dived and I was sure that he was going to kill the fox; she was weak and easy prey. But, instead, the hawk grasped the fox and carried her off. Then the scene wavered and changed."

"To what?" Draco asked breathlessly.

Neville glanced over at Malfoy and wasn't even mildly surprised at the look of horrified fascination that he saw. "I saw the hawk land in a nest and let go of the fox then quickly take off again. He came back in just a couple of minutes, carrying something in his talons that he put into the fox's mouth. Whatever it was, it made her stop dying. She was still hurt really badly, though, and I watched as the hawk continued to fetch things to give the little fox to heal her. Eventually the little fox fell asleep and the hawk watched over her. Sometimes she would whimper in her sleep, move about restlessly, and wake up frightened. The hawk would twitter and the sound would calm her down again and she would curl up into this tiny little ball and go to sleep. Then the hawk would stand watch again. Somehow, I knew that the hawk was now the guardian, the father, of the little fox."

"Was that it?" Draco asked, somewhat frightened at what else Longbottom's vision might have shown him.

Neville turned his head back to look directly at Malfoy. "No," he said. "It wavered and changed once more. I was sitting at a table, this one in fact. The hawk, the same hawk, came and dropped a betrothal contract onto the table then perched on one of the chairs."

"This one," Draco said quietly.

Neville nodded. "And then something weird happened. The vision split into two pieces and, again somehow, I was able to see and understand both perfectly at the same time. In one piece I picked up the betrothal contract and signed it immediately. The hawk had a fit. A vulture came out and saw what had happened and had a fit. Some other animals came out and also had a fit. I knew, _somehow_, that there were pieces in the contract that I didn't like. In fact, there were pieces that I downright hated. But, in the end, I was happy, the fox was happy, and we had a bunch of happy little pups romping around."

Draco snorted in amusement at the idea of a litter of pups romping around Pansy. Pansy absolutely detested dogs, which made it all the more amusing that her animagus form was a fox.

Neville raised his eyebrows at the response but didn't ask. "In the second piece of the vision I opened the contract and started to read it. The vulture came out and together we changed the parts that I didn't like. The hawk accepted the changes but in the end… In the end, I wasn't happy, the fox wasn't happy, and there was only one pup."

Neville looked solemnly at Malfoy and said, "So you see, Malfoy, I could either sign the contract right away, knowing that there would be pieces of it that I didn't like, but also knowing that I would have a happy marriage and a good family, or I could read the contract, change the pieces I was dissatisfied with, and have an unhappy marriage and only a single heir. I did what I had to do, Malfoy. I'd like to have long-term happiness over short-term satisfaction."

"Bloody hell, Longbottom," Draco said very softly.

Neville gave a short laugh and said, "That's what I'm trying to avoid, Malfoy."

Draco tilted his head in acknowledgement and watched as Longbottom lifted his hands to his neck to grasp a silver torc that had been hidden by his shirt then closed his eyes in concentration.

Neville pulled his hands away from the torc that denoted his station as Head of the Longbottom family and with his hands came a smaller silver torc that had been intertwined with his own. He passed it over to Malfoy and said, "Please give this to Pansy; it's the Longbottom matriarch's torc."

Draco nodded as he accepted the torc. The symbol of the Longbottom family was etched into the torc in an attractive repetitive pattern. He stood to leave; with the contract signed there was no further point in staying. "Have a pleasant day, Longbottom."

"Malfoy?" Neville called as the other man turned to leave.

Draco turned back around and said, "Yes, Longbottom?"

"Does Pansy like flowers?" Neville asked.

Draco smiled slightly and said, "No, actually, Pansy hates flowers. She likes chocolate, though."

Neville nodded thoughtfully as Malfoy once again turned to leave. The blond had only taken a couple of steps when Neville called again. "Malfoy?"

Draco sighed, stopped, turned, and said, "Yes, Longbottom?"

"What else does she like?" Neville asked curiously.

"History," Draco said. "She's a real history buff. She especially likes Greek history, including their arts and culture. And she likes to ride horses."

Neville nodded again and watched as Malfoy made it another six steps. "Malfoy?"

Draco stifled a groan and once again turned around. "What is it, Longbottom?" he asked impatiently.

Neville grinned for a moment then said seriously, "She can keep that hidden if she wants. Once she has it on, it will respond to her will to be visible or invisible. I realize that wearing it in Slytherin House next year during school might be dangerous."

Draco wouldn't show it but he was actually quite grateful to hear that. He nodded and turned to leave again, then turned back slightly and said, "Is there anything else?"

Neville shook his head with a slight smile. But as Malfoy took a few more steps he said, "Wait. There is one more thing."

Draco stopped, sighed, and hung his head. "What is it?" he asked without turning around.

"Is she safe?" Neville asked worriedly. "You know, from him."

Draco turned around and said firmly, "Yes. She's safe."

"What did he do to her, anyway?" Neville asked with a frown.

"That's for Pansy to tell you, if she wants," Draco said.

"Will her father make a fuss?" Neville asked in concern. "I can't imagine him being too happy about this match."

"No," Draco said with a vindictive smirk. "He knows that if he makes any kind of fuss about her at all that I'll simply make it public knowledge that I ripped his paternal rights from him when I was only eight years old."

"And he won't have an opportunity to hurt her at all?" Neville asked, still worried despite the reassurances. This was his fiancé, after all, and he was worried about her, even if he hadn't ever spoken to her.

"He won't touch her, Longbottom," Draco said firmly. "She lives with me. Not him. She's _my _daughter, after all. Not his."

Neville nodded in relief then laughed and said, "You know, Malfoy, I have to thank you. Even knowing about having this vision, I always figured I was going to be a bachelor until I was forty."

Draco smirked and said, "You still might be, Longbottom, if you don't let me get out of here."

Neville laughed and waved a hand. "Go on, Malfoy," he said. "No more questions, I promise."

So Draco turned and left.

--August 1--

Neville paced angrily in his rooms. He wasn't sure with whom he was the most angry. There were so many options, really. There was his grandmother, his uncle, his solicitor, Malfoy, Pansy, himself.

No.

No, he wasn't going to be angry. Neville stopped and took several deep breaths. It was time to let go of the anger and look at the situation logically. He was _not_ angry with himself – as he'd told Malfoy, he'd done what he'd needed to do to secure a happy future.

Pansy? She may not have known the contents of the contract. And even if she did, the contract was still her father's, Malfoy's, responsibility. So, Malfoy.

Malfoy was a good one to be angry at. After all, _he'd_ been the one to put in that absolutely _exorbitant_ bride price. It was almost a quarter, _a quarter!_, of the Longbottom's monetary assets. It was ten times as much as he could have expected to pay had he dealt with the Head of the Parkinson family. So, _why_? _Why_ such a large amount?

Granted Pansy wasn't going to be inheriting anything from the Parkinsons, but she should be receiving a comparable or better inheritance from the Malfoys with her adoption into that family. As it was, the Longbottoms were going to have to liquidate quite a bit of stock to make the payment.

Neville's thoughts stopped abruptly and he blinked in realization.

Actually, that might not be such a bad thing. With the world as they knew it heading for Armageddon, he really ought to move all the Longbottom investments out of Britain anyway. Still…

Did the Malfoys know that the world was going to implode sometime in the near future and this was their way to salvage some of that wealth? He knew some families actually put the bride price into a trust for the bride instead of keeping it. He wouldn't be surprised if the Malfoys were one of the families that followed this new tradition. After all, it wasn't as if they needed the money.

He started pacing again, more slowly this time as he thought through the possibilities.

The dowry that came with Pansy was an estate in France. There was quite a bit of land, but the manor was old and in disrepair. Given the state of the manor, practically condemned, the dowry was not an equitable trade for the bride price. But what if the bride price was used to renovate the manor? Supposedly, the manor was a favorite place for Pansy. If that was true, it would have been very likely that he would have allocated Longbottom funds for its repair anyway. So perhaps he was simply paying for everything up front instead of over several years.

He nodded to himself. Yes, those conclusions seemed likely. And that gave him ideas for little gifts for his fiancé. He'd have to see just how many house remodeling catalogs he could acquire over the next month.

Neville continued pacing. So, the financial exchange, while seemingly uneven in the extreme, was actually fairly balanced. After all, if he subtracted the amount of funds it was going to take to get that decrepit old manor livable…well, what was left was about the same as the current market value of that estate.

So that left his grandmother, his uncle, and his solicitor to be angry with. And he certainly had cause given some of the things they had said to him, about him, and about Pansy and Malfoy. He sighed gustily. He couldn't really blame them. They weren't in possession of several bits of knowledge, such as his vision and the approaching apocalypse and the semi-illicit but highly honorable activities of the Malfoys.

But the bride price wasn't the only thing they were angry with him about, or that he was angry about himself.

The contract required that he _not _attend L'École d'Antoinette pour Herbology Magique, the premier herbology school in Europe, the school he'd been dreaming of attending since he'd first heard of it when he was nine. He could attend any other school he wanted, but not that one. He didn't understand _why_ Malfoy had made such a distinction, especially since it was the closest herbology school to Pansy's supposedly favorite estate.

Neville groaned and rubbed his forehead. He hoped – he really, really hoped – that Draco Malfoy had consulted with his elders about the contract and that it was they that had suggested the restriction due to some insider information they held about the school. It was the only logical explanation he could think of that such an odd restriction would have been placed.

His uncle and grandmother had jumped on the restriction as evidence of how Malfoy was already ruining Neville's future. But he wasn't so sure. After all, the contract didn't say that he couldn't become an herbologist. It didn't even state that he couldn't go to an advanced herbology school. All it said was that he couldn't go to _Antoinette's_. And he'd learned over the past eight/nine months that everything Malfoy did, he did with a reason. So there must be a reason for the restriction. Maybe he should ask.

Neville paused in his pacing and thought about that. Maybe he _should_ ask. Except, of course, that he wasn't supposed to know about the Malfoy information network. But on the other hand, the restriction was right there in black and white and it wouldn't really be suspicious if he asked about it. He wondered if he'd actually get an answer if he did ask. He decided that making the attempt wouldn't hurt anything and resumed his pacing.

His family was also furious over the fact that he was required to leave the Longbottom family home and to live outside of the country. He snorted in bitter amusement as he wondered just how angry they would be when he, as Head of the family, required _everyone_ to leave the country. He wasn't going to leave his family here to be destroyed in the coming war.

There were other things, too, that were…less than desirable. There were the requirements about how to raise any and all children he and Pansy might have. There were the requirements about getting Malfoy permission before he took a job. There were…lots of things. Most were small but some weren't. And all the details hadn't yet reached the extended family. He couldn't imagine the furor that would provoke when they finally did hear. He was going to have a couple dozen people at his throat for this.

Merlin, what a mess.

--August 7--

"Silence!" Neville said loudly and slammed his hands down onto the dinner table. In the resulting shocked silence he stood slowly and glared at everybody sitting around the dinner table.

He leaned forward on his hands and said menacingly, "There will be no more discussion about this topic in my presence. Yes, there are a number of things in the contract that appear to be detrimental to me personally or to the family in general. That's too bad. The contract is signed. There is no going back. I had my reasons for signing the contract, which, I will point out, was my right. As none of you have had the decency to ask me _politely_ what those reasons might be, I will not be informing you, as is _also_ my right."

Neville took a deep breath then glared his grandmother into silence as she opened her mouth. He took another deep breath and stood up fully, showing off the height he had achieved over the past year, and squared his shoulders. "There will be no attempts to circumvent the contract. There will be no counter-contracts proposed. And, most especially, there will be no _gossiping_ about the contract outside of this family. Is that understood?"

The entire population of the table simply stared in varying degrees of shock and/or indignation.

"I said, _is that understood?_" Neville hissed out angrily, lacing the implied command with the magic that came with being Head of the family. Everyone present immediately nodded or gave their affirmations. "Good," he said as he swept his disgusted, narrow-eyed gaze over everyone. He snapped his fingers.

A house-elf popped in a couple feet away from Neville's chair and asked, "You's be needing Mipsy, Master Nevy?"

"Yes, Mipsy," Neville said, still glaring at his family. "I will be taking the remainder of my meal in my rooms. Please see to it."

"Mipsy being happy to, Master Nevy," the elf said as she snapped her fingers and vanished Neville's place setting from the table. A moment later she popped out.

"I am very disappointed in this family right now," Neville said scathingly. "All any of you have done is moan and complain. None of you have tried to discern why the aspects of the contract you don't like were even placed into the contract in the first place. I have and have come to some conclusions that I believe to be correct and that alleviate many of my concerns. I also wrote to both Draco and Gaius Malfoy and requested information, information that both were pleased to provide, information that has also alleviated many of my concerns, information that I _won't_ be providing any of _you_ because it's become obvious none of you are interested."

"In short," Neville said, still glaring, "I am pleased with the contract. There are still some minor aspects that I am leery of but, overall, I…am…pleased. This topic is closed."

After one final glare, Neville turned sharply and left the formal dining room. He strode briskly towards the sanctuary of his rooms and tried to release his anger.

"It's just a shock for them, you know," one of the portraits said.

Neville stopped and stared at the portrait of Algernon Longbottom, his five-times great-grandfather. "Pardon?"

"It's a shock for them," Algernon repeated. "Last summer you were still a boy, doing boy things, and thinking boy thoughts. When you returned from school this year, you were already a man. Your birthday was just a technicality."

"I don't understand," Neville said, his face scrunching briefly in confusion. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"They expected you to act as you always have," Algernon said. "They expected you to consult with them, as you always have, before making such a big decision. They did not expect you to be ready to make your own decisions."

"Well, that's too bad for them, isn't it?" Neville said crossly.

Algernon laughed lightly. "Yes, it is. You do have to admit, however, that signing a contract without even reading it, much less asking for legal advice, seems foolish. You truly cannot blame them for being upset."

"You don't seem upset," Neville said suspiciously, ignoring the advice for now.

"House-elves like to chatter," Algernon said with a shrug, "and there's a portrait in the kitchen."

Neville blinked. "What?" he asked in confusion at the seeming non sequitur.

"Tinky was nearby in the garden and heard your entire conversation with young Mr. Malfoy," Algernon supplied. "All the house-elves and all the portraits know your reasons for signing the contract."

"Oh," Neville said dumbly, nothing else coming to mind. He guessed he probably should have put up a privacy shield before he started talking. Well, too late now.

"I am proud of you," Algernon said with a small smile.

"You are?" Neville asked in surprise.

"Yes. As are all the other former Heads," Algernon said, still smiling. "What you did took a lot of faith and courage, two traits that have always been prized highly in our family. You will do well as Head of the family."

"I…thank you," Neville said with a blush. "I hope to live up to your expectations."

"I'm sure you will," Algernon said kindly. "Now go finish your dinner. Head you may be, but you are still a growing boy. No sense in skipping meals."

Neville nodded and ambled towards his rooms slightly befuddled but deep in thought. It was nice to have the approval of the portraits, but it was the living he needed to truly get along with. Although, how he was going to manage that when everyone was questioning his intelligence was another story…

--August 16--

Neville stumbled slightly as the portkey deposited him at his destination. He didn't even get a chance to look around before he was accosted by Hermione and her enthusiastic hug.

"Neville!" Hermione cried cheerfully. "I'm glad to see you. How was your summer?"

Neville hugged back then let go of Hermione to also briefly hug Harry. He let go of Harry then turned slightly so he could face both his friends. "I got engaged, I'm lots poorer, and my family hates me. How was your summer?" he said sarcastically.

Hermione blinked in surprise then let out a slightly bitter laugh. "I got into a huge argument with my parents, moved out, and took over the Unspeakables," she said just as sarcastically.

Neville was startled into brief laughter then turned to Harry with a wry grin. "And how was your summer, Harry?" he asked with mock sweetness.

"Um, well, I bollixed it all up and made a choice," Harry said with a slightly hysterical laugh.

"That's nice, Harry," Neville said, not missing a beat. "Why don't we all share our misadventures over tea?"

"Uh, all right," Harry said hesitantly.

"I'll go first," Neville added magnanimously.

Hermione giggled and moved to link her arms with both her friends. "The gardens are this way…"


	27. Harry's Summer I

_A whole batch of cookies to OccAmy Phyre _for figuring out the possible ramifications (of what you'll soon see) all the way back in chapter 11! More discussions about this in 28.

_Cookies to the following _who figured out "the mistake" in the last chapter or two: Makindeor , Ammykace, til-iburnout, BrookMctirre, DamaskRose32, Lady PhoenixFyre, rotsapv

_Cookies to HeavenGoddess_ for correcting my French school name last chapter. This is what I get for taking sign language as my language option instead of something nice and ordinary like French or German. And for using Google translator instead of asking for _real_ help!

_Cookies to Shinigami & OccAmy Phyre_ (who's going to have to run around the block with all these cookies!) who both figured out about the tracking spells back in chapter 14.

_Cookies to Lady PhoenixFyre_ (who's also going to have to run around the block with all these cookies!) for inspiration about Colin.

_Cookies to Rokkis_ for reminding me about Harry's birthday.

_Cookies to Fanfix _for the ideas (way back in chpt 8) on what Harry received from Draco.

(wipes sweat from forehead from slaving over the oven baking all these cookies!)

**Chapter 27 – Harry's Summer I**

As he'd promised Hermione, he had taken his end of year tests the second week of June. Surprisingly, he'd been allowed to take all of them; Dumbledore's influence, undoubtedly. He was sure that he'd done well enough. Then, just because he could, he'd taken the last week of school off, mostly, from his courting and enjoyed the company of his friends. He and his grandfather had met all day the Saturday after testing and for two hours each morning that next week but, other than that, he'd been able to revel in his mini-vacation.

That Saturday had been a day of harsh realities. He'd completed all the easy eliminations and the suitors left were the ones who were going to require a greater amount of thought and effort. Some of that effort had already been done, however. As each suitor had passed through round three, a very thorough background check had been initiated that included the suitor's family as well as themselves. Saturday had been spent reviewing the results of those investigations.

He'd hated to do it, but the remaining suitors had been separated by personal and familial wealth. He firmly believed, as Hermione had admonished him so long ago, that a person's worth couldn't be based on how many galleons they had to their name. The cold, hard truth, however, was that he had a certain status within Veela society and his mate was going to need to be able to deal with that. A mate raised to wealth was going be comfortable within the circles Harry would soon frequent, whereas one who hadn't most likely would not.

Twenty-two of the remaining thirty-one suitors had been marked as unlikely to be comfortable with the necessary social obligations. He had been prepared to still meet with them, however, because you just never knew. That is, if they were still interested in courting him after they read the letter – properly spelled for secrecy, of course – that had been sent to them that evening detailing what would be socially expected of his mate, though it had left out his exact social status. Four suitors had politely withdrawn.

The same letter had been sent to the nine remaining suitors in the "used to it" pile, but none of those had withdrawn. That pile had, however, been further subdivided into greater and lesser political desirability in regards to an alliance. There were three suitors of little interest, five of acceptable interest, and one of great interest. The contacts that the Malfoy family had all over the world put them far and away above the next nearest set of suitors.

Unless one of the other suitors really stood out for some reason, Harry and his grandfather had figured there were only six truly viable contestants based on social status alone.

Another distinction he'd reluctantly made had been between pureblood and not. He'd eliminated most of the muggle-borns during the dating process. This had been expected, though not intentional. As he'd said in the interviews, he had no interest in living in the muggle world. Most of the muggle-borns he'd dated had wanted to continue living in the muggle world so as to be accessible to their families. He applauded them for their closeness to their families, but had eliminated them nevertheless. The remaining muggle-borns, of which there were six, were marked as likely to fail due to Statute of Secrecy issues. Not being able to talk about what was _really_ going on in his life was not conducive to creating close bonds with extended family members not "in the know" about the wizarding world. Five of those six were also in the "not likely to be comfortable" pile.

An easier evaluation, at least on his conscience, had been the gifts. The final tally had been made of all the positive and negative marks Harry had made on the suitors' files over the last several months. Less than half had come up in the black. Those in the red were marked as "unlikely."

The background checks had also turned up a couple of dodgy pasts, a few intra-family spats of some concern, one mafia connection, one that had died days after the date, and numerous tidbits of fascinating information that would have no bearing on the decision making process.

Overall, there were four suitors likely to be part of the "finals" that were planned to take place in September and October.

The last week of school Harry and his grandfather had met every morning primarily just to chat. It was the only time that he had actually taken advantage of the situation to get some time away from the school that would otherwise have been unauthorized. Still, they _did_ mark down the suitors who had sent confirmations that day for the family meetings that had been scheduled for varying dates the last part of June and the first part of August.

It was now the morning of June 20 and he was flat on his back in the receiving room of his grandfather's estate. He groaned in frustration and didn't bother to get up or even look around until he heard a door open. Merlin, but he hated portkeys.

"Hello, Harry," Robert said as he entered the receiving room, amusement lacing his tone. "You're quite a bit early. How was your morning?"

Harry glared half-heartedly at his grandfather as he accepted help up off the floor. "Weird."

Robert raised his eyebrows. "Oh? How so?"

Harry dusted himself off and straightened his clothes then gave his grandfather a warm hug before leading him off towards the dining room for the wonderful lunch he could smell from here. "It started at breakfast," Harry said. "Nichol came with this _box_."

"Interesting," Robert replied. "I thought she only came on Mondays."

"Not today," Harry said with a shrug. "The letter that came with this _box_ said that there were additional letters inside the box – one for every day of summer."

"Indeed?" Robert asked in surprise.

Harry nodded. "With a box of chocolates," he added with a happy smile.

"For every day?" Robert asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," Harry said fatuously.

Robert laughed and shook his head. "Well, you'll probably have a couple more full sets of frog cards by the end of summer, then."

"Oh, no," Harry said in surprise. "Didn't I tell you that he had switched to birds?"

"No, you hadn't," said Robert with a shake of his head. "Well, a couple of complete sets of birds, then."

"Except he sent both birds and fish," Harry said. "Maybe I'll get lucky and complete both sets."

"Maybe," Robert said with a smile. "So why so many letters?"

"He's going to tell me more stories. That's after he's revealed himself in the first letter, of course," Harry said with a smirk.

Robert laughed again. "Will you ever tell him that you've known all along?"

"Probably at the family dinner," Harry said with a wicked grin. "From what he's told me about his great-grandmother, I think that she'd enjoy the joke and I'd hate to deprive her."

"How thoughtful of you," Robert said with a chuckle. "So that was the beginning of your weird morning?"

"Yes," Harry said, also chuckling. "It gets better."

"And what was next?" Robert asked curiously.

"Were you aware that Dumbledore got custody of me?" Harry asked pleasantly.

"Pardon?" Robert said in surprise.

"Oh, yes," Harry said with a smirk. "Seems he visited my _lovely_ relatives and they couldn't sign my life away to him fast enough. He did that back a couple of weeks after the wards fell. _Then_ he went and got some pretty papers from the Ministry."

Robert narrowed his eyes and wondered if he should bother to do anything about that.

"He called me to his office and presented them to me and told me that I _would_ be spending all my non-courting time this summer at Hogwarts under his direct supervision," Harry continued, still smirking. "I tell you truthfully, grandfather, I was so hard-pressed not to laugh in his face. He probably thought the reason I didn't say anything was because I was angry, but it was because I could barely hold in my laughter. I think he gave me the papers this morning so that I wouldn't have time to set up a counter of any kind."

"And how did he think he was going to contain you?" Robert asked curiously. "He must know that you have an ICW portkey."

"There's now a portkey ward around the castle," Harry said with a smile. "And, not to forget, a ward keyed to me personally that I can't pass without being in the company of the ward-caster, namely Dumbledore. I'd love to know how he got permission to raise those."

"Maybe he didn't," Robert suggested mildly.

Harry shrugged. "Maybe not."

"And what was he going to do when you left the castle for your courting tasks? A personal anti-portkey ward?"

Harry shrugged again. "Maybe. Or maybe he was going to cast some kind of tether to ensure that I returned? It doesn't mater."

"So how did you get out?" Robert asked curiously, filing away his grandson's comment about a tether. He'd have to find a way to counteract that from happening in the future.

"Oh, no, no, no," Harry said as he shook his head. "We have to get to the next part of my weird day first."

"All right," Robert said agreeably as they finally reached the dining room.

"As I was walking back to Gryffindor tower I was physically accosted by one Luna Lovegood," Harry said as he followed his grandfather into the dining room then took a seat at one of the place settings. One of the servants must have informed the kitchen staff of his early arrival.

"I remember you telling me about her," Robert said as he took his own seat. "The creepy one that you're sure knows more than she really ought."

"That's the one," Harry said cheerfully and rang the small silver bell to start lunch.

"And what did she want?" Robert asked as he leaned back to allow one of the servants to place a filled plate in front of him.

Harry had an odd look on his face as he responded. "Well, at first I didn't understand. She just said that she had to make sure I was prepared to visit the havens of the glitterpuffs."

"Glitterpuffs?" Robert questioned in bemusement.

Harry nodded then narrowed his eyes in annoyance. "Then she said something else. She stopped me for several minutes in a deserted hallway – not even any portraits – and said that I had to be still so that she could take off all the glitter-absorbing spells that were on me. So I stood there, staring at her, as _she_ stood there staring at _me._ Then she pronounced me ready to meet the glitterpuffs, escorted me to Myrtle's bathroom and told me that I should leave right away or else I might miss lunch. I'm pretty sure she was really talking about tracking spells."

Robert chewed a buttered green bean thoughtfully and eventually nodded his agreement. He rang the silver bell and asked the quickly attending servant to please send up one of the guards. "We should have you checked for any remaining spells. I should have done that when you came last Christmas. I'm surprised they didn't track you then."

Harry grimaced. "Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if that was half the reason she was smiling and staring at me the whole trip on the Express."

"I wonder what was placed on you and how she removed them," Robert mused. "Tracking spells and their removal is an auror level skill. Most people never learn how to do either."

"I don't even want to think about it," Harry said with a scowl. "Luna would probably tell me that the glitterpuffs taught her."

Robert chuckled but didn't disagree. A guard entered a moment later and Robert requested a thorough check. After nothing was found, the guard was dismissed and the both of them went back to eating their lunch.

"So, you're at the bathroom…?" Robert asked leadingly.

Harry nodded and swallowed his bite. "Exactly. Myrtle's bathroom and the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. I was planning on using the secret passage to Honeyduke's but…well, I figured there was a reason Luna had taken me to the bathroom instead."

"Perhaps the headmaster had already taken into consideration your knowledge of secret passages," Robert suggested.

"But a ward won't pass underground," Harry protested. "You think he may have had them guarded?"

"Or simply warded them separately," Robert said.

Harry frowned. "I hadn't thought of that. Well, it doesn't matter. I opened the sink and jumped down the tunnel. And guess what I found?"

"Not another basilisk, I hope," Robert said dryly.

Harry snorted in amusement. "No. The place was completely, totally, absolutely, utterly _clean_. It was unnerving."

"Your house-elf friend?" Robert asked curiously.

"That's my presumption," Harry said with a shrug. "I didn't call for him to ask. The place was creepy before but it was actually _worse_ clean. I just activated the portkey and got out of there. I want nothing to do with that place."

"Well, I agree, a weird morning," Robert said.

Harry nodded. "At least I got here a little earlier. Now I get to spend more time with you before starting the meetings tomorrow."

"Are you ready for them?" Robert asked.

"Yes," Harry said confidently. "I know that all the ones I'm seeing before summer school are most of the unlikelies. I'm just looking for anyone exceptional. It should be easy."

"It was considerate of Draco to give you two months warning about the session he arranged for you," Robert said. "If he'd waited until just before the start of summer, we would probably have had to rearrange some meetings. If you had decided to go, that is, with such short notice."

"Oh, I would have," Harry said, nodding earnestly. "There's no way I would miss this. An entire month of comparative ancient magics, including Egyptian? I guess it makes sense that there would be a school about ancient magics, but I just never really thought about it. I wonder if Bill Weasley went there when he was studying to be a curse-breaker."

"Perhaps," Robert said, knowing nothing about that particular career.

"And then a week's vacation to deal with stage three before tackling the rest," Harry said then sighed. "That's when it's going to get difficult. I'm probably going to want to pounce the first one I see."

"I will be with you and will make sure that does not happen," Robert said reassuringly.

"I know," Harry said with a grateful smile.

"Let us talk of more pleasant things as we finish eating," Robert said. "Giselle had her baby."

Harry brightened and asked eagerly, "Boy or girl?"

"A little girl," Robert said with a smile. "She's most beautiful, of course, but she squalls awfully."

Harry laughed and they spent the remainder of lunch talking about the new baby.

--June 22--

"Oh, I'm just so happy to meet you!" Mrs. Archer gushed excitedly. "My Eric has been telling me all about you and about you being a Veela! A whole different species! Why, it's fascinating!"

"Mother!" Eric cried in dismay.

"Pish-posh, Eric!" Mrs. Archer said as she grasped a bemused Harry's arm and led him into the family room where, coincidentally, there was quite a bit of family. "Eric was telling us about how you need extra sugar during this time so I made sure to make plenty of sweets that growing boys always like!"

"Mother, please," Eric practically whimpered.

"Now you just sit here and have some brownies to tide you over to dinner," Mrs. Archer continued blithely as she pushed Harry down onto one of the sofas. "We're having turkey tonight. I know it's not Thanksgiving, but this is a special occasion. And we've all the fixings, too. I've told my babies not to eat all the sweets. I sure hope there's enough." The woman looked worriedly at the coffee table before bustling off murmuring about starting another batch of cookies.

Harry stared blankly at the several foot-tall mounds of sweets on the coffee table. Eric – his suitor of the evening – was standing by one of the reclining chairs with a hand over his eyes and looking dejected. The woman next to him – she looked to be a sister – picked up a napkin, placed one of the brownies on it, and held it out to him.

"Hi. My name's Annie. I'm Eric's younger sister. Brownie?" the young woman said with a grin.

Harry stared at her a moment then started to grin as well. "Thank you," he said as he took the napkin and started laughing.

A muggle Molly Weasley. Who'd have guessed?

--June 24--

"…and Mitch and I have two children," Michelle – sister-in-law of his morning's suitor, Ian Cadwgan – said proudly. "Would you like to see pictures?"

"I'd love to," Harry said. After he'd obligingly praised the pictures, which actually _were_ adorable, he asked, "Where are your children today?"

"Oh, we left them with a sitter," Michelle said as she put away her pictures. "We didn't want them getting underfoot as we tried to get to know you."

Harry made appropriately understanding noises but internally was rather aggravated. He had asked for a _family_ meeting, had he not? He wasn't interested in tying himself to a family that didn't consider their children a part of that family.

This was the fourth family in as many days that hadn't included their children. They'd all had their reasons, of course, but he didn't care. All four had been mentally eliminated before the "date" was even half over.

--June 27--

Harry caught only a glimpse of the floor he had sprawled upon from the portkey landing before he was assaulted by a sense of ambient hostility so great that he became nauseous then passed out.

He was unconscious as he was whisked away by one of the guards.

He was unconscious as Robert tersely informed the waiting suitor that he had been eliminated.

He was, in fact, unconscious for over two hours as he recovered from the attack. They found out the next day when a written apology arrived that the family ghost was quite prejudiced against non-humans and had been the one to perpetrate the attack.

Nice of them to have taken that into consideration for his visit.

--June 29--

Harry looked at his grandfather once they'd arrived back home from his last date. "Boring?"

"Boring," Robert agreed with a nod.

"Except Tommy-T," Harry said. "He was kind of interesting."

"He's a convicted criminal," Robert said blandly.

Harry nodded. "True," he said, "but he was still interesting. I learned more about guns and knives in that fifteen-minute conversation that I'd ever learned in the rest of my life put together. And he liked me."

"He's not your suitor," Robert said with a scowl.

"Nope," Harry agreed cheerfully. "One more down. That's left a whopping two suitors out of the eighteen I've visited so far. Only eight more to visit once I get back from summer school! Moving right along!"

"I'm glad to see you're so cheerful," Robert said sourly.

"Just because Tim and Tommy – or was that Tom and Timmy? – wouldn't leave you alone doesn't mean you should be such a curmudgeon," Harry said in reference to the two large dogs that had taken a weird instant liking to his grandfather. "Besides, I start summer school tomorrow. How can I be anything but cheerful?"

"Don't try to escape your guards," Robert admonished sternly. He'd agreed for Harry to attend the summer intensive only if he took the guards with him. The school had already been informed and had been more than accommodating.

"No, grandfather. I promise to be good," Harry said childishly then started laughing in delight. He was free from this mess for the next five weeks.

Robert shook his head in exasperation but couldn't help smiling at his grandson's infectious good mood.

--July 27--

"Raoul, my friend, I need an immediate favor," Robert said urgently as he ushered his grandson into the jeweler's private workshop. He'd long had the password to Raoul's workshop, but never had he used it without prior invitation.

Raoul looked up in surprise at his unannounced visitors. "Robert?" he said in surprise. "But of course. Whatever you need."

"I need the clasp of a bracelet fixed as quickly as you can," Robert said seriously as he held Harry close.

Raoul glanced curiously at the cloaked, shaking figure that his friend was holding so protectively then turned his attention back to the matter at hand. "And where is this bracelet?"

Robert surrounded Harry's left fist with his own left hand and slowly cajoled his grandson to open his hand. "Here it is," Robert said. "Please be as quick as you can."

Raoul looked at the bracelet and its charm, then at the shaking figure, then at Robert, and turned to pick up a pair of wire-cutters before approaching. "Hold still just a moment, lad," he said gently. He carefully worked the cutters around the ring that held the charm to the bracelet and snipped. He moved the cutter a little further along the ring and made another snip. He then carefully twisted the ring so the charm fell free then picked up the bracelet from the shaking hand. "You're welcome," he said in response to the quietly stuttered thank you.

"Feel free to take a seat," Raoul said and waved absently towards the furniture on one side of the room as he took a better look at the bracelet he held. "This will take me a little while. Platinum, you know, and matching the style. You want tea?"

"No, thank you, Raoul," Robert said with a relieved sigh. "Thank you for doing this."

Raoul waved off his friend's words and fired up his jeweler's magi-forge and set it to "platinum." He then unlocked his platinum drawer and pulled out a small rectangle that would be sufficient to fashion a new clasp. "Grandson?" he asked curiously.

"You know, there's a downside to not having stupid friends," Robert said wryly as he settled Harry onto the fluffy couch.

Raoul smiled as he used a set of tongs to place the bouillon inside the forge to start melting and started studying the broken clasp so he might recreate it. "You know I won't say anything if you do not wish it," he said.

"I know," Robert said as he took a seat next to Harry and pulled his grandson in close to his side. Harry turned slightly and grasped Robert's robes with both hands and hid his face.

"How did it break?" Raoul asked curiously. "This is a heavy duty clasp."

"He was walking along a beach boardwalk with some new friends this morning and tripped. The bracelet caught on one of the wire display racks and was ripped from him and fell down into a grating. It took nearly an hour to retrieve." Robert sighed as he cuddled Harry close. Harry had had a wonderful time at the summer intensive; the daily letters he had received full of exuberance held testament to that. To have the very last outing before returning home end in such a horrible way… Robert hoped that it didn't affect his grandson's fascination with Egyptian magic.

"Muggle area, then?" Raoul asked.

"Yes," Robert said. "At least it wasn't raining. The current might have caused it to be irretrievable."

"Yes, a good thing," Raoul said absently. "He's chosen, then?"

Robert paused to comfort Harry as his grandson whimpered. "Hush. It's all right," he said quietly. "Not intentionally," he told Raoul. "This reaction is…unexpected."

Raoul glanced up at the pair on his couch then returned his attention to his work. "How so?"

Robert sighed and hushed Harry's soft, nearly sobbing, partly hysterical, apologies. "He received the bracelet in October…"

--July 31--

Harry lay against his grandfather, totally exhausted. Entry into stage three of Désespoir had been…unpleasant. The convulsions had been as bad as he'd expected and he currently felt as if he'd never move again. Nevertheless, he figured that, overall, the day would probably go better than stage two's entry day. There weren't any dates scheduled, he was away from annoying Hogwarts students and teachers, he was isolated from the world at large, and he had his grandfather here to coddle him all day.

"Would you like to eat?" Robert asked softly.

Harry grunted/groaned a response.

"I think I'll interpret that as a yes," Robert said with a combination of worry and mild amusement. He carefully pulled himself and his grandson up to a sitting position in the bed. One of the attending servants helpfully resituated the pillows. When Robert and Harry were comfortable once more, the servant adjusted the blankets covering the two men, careful not to touch Harry.

A second servant approached with a large covered cup that had a straw coming out of it. Robert accepted the cup and gently urged his grandson to sip the high-calorie drink. An hour later the drink was finally gone and Harry had been motivated to drag himself out of the bed and take care of his very pressing needs. Blasted liquids. He'd liked laying there against his grandfather in his nice warm bed.

When he was done with his necessities, Harry returned to his bedroom and was utterly relieved to see his grandfather still in bed and holding out his arms. Harry gratefully climbed back in bed and snuggled up to his grandfather. He was only peripherally aware of one of the servants covering him with the blankets as he fell into a light doze. It was another couple of hours before he woke again, once more due to his bladder, and felt much more able to deal with the world, and a more substantial breakfast.

Harry moaned his appreciation of the strawberry waffles he was consuming. His grandfather's chefs were the best. "Are there more?" he asked as he started cutting the last section of his waffle.

"I'm sure there are," Robert said and signaled one of the servants.

Harry grinned at the attending servant as his now empty plate was replaced with a new one with a fresh waffle drenched in strawberries. He happily consumed half a dozen waffles before contenting himself with hors d'oeuvres and tea. "Well, I feel better, but I'm still tired."

Robert smiled from where he sat next to his grandson in the large bed. He'd tentatively suggested they move to the table but Harry had become slightly frantic at the thought of loss of contact and so they had had breakfast in bed. "We will ensure you have an easy day today," he said. "Would you like to open your presents?"

"Sure!" Harry said, managing to muster up some excitement at the prospect. "Yours first?"

"If you wish," Robert said. "Then your friends?"

Harry nodded. "Then…then Draco's, I guess," he said reluctantly.

"How about everyone else first and then Draco?" Robert suggested. "Save the best for last?"

Harry bit his lip and looked away, shrugging his acquiescence.

Robert sighed. "This situation is not your fault, Harry," he said gently.

Harry huffed a bitter half-laugh. "Sure," he said, unconvinced.

Robert sighed again but didn't pursue the subject.

By lunchtime they had opened and sent out thank you notes for all of the presents. There were, unsurprisingly, presents from every suitor that, supposedly, remained in the running. Harry was only mildly surprised that there were another dozen and a half presents from dismissed suitors. A couple of the presents were from those trying to change his mind, but the others were accompanied by sincere wishes for his health and future. Robert suggested keeping in contact with them and expanding his circle of friends and acquaintances. Harry had smiled slightly and nodded.

There were the expected presents from his friends, too. Both Harry and Robert had laughed at the school planner Hermione had sent, along with her admonition that he should do his best to catch up on what he'd missed. Some of his other classmates had also sent presents. The most shocking of these was Colin Creevey.

Harry had been rather scared to open the present, even though the guards said it was harmless. He had eventually opened the gift and found another photo album, a large one. He and his grandfather had looked through the pictures in both horror and amazement. The pictures showed just how scrawny and pathetic he had still looked in second year – it angered them both that no one in authority had done anything about his obviously malnourished and neglected state. The pictures also proved just how well his grandfather had taken care of him – the difference between the end of fourth year and the beginning of fifth was obvious. Harry found the album creepy and promptly gave it to his grandfather since the man expressed an interest. He was glad Colin was getting some professional help in dealing with his stalker tendencies, but he couldn't help but feel that sending the pictures to the "victims" wasn't necessarily the best idea.

The last present he opened was from Draco. Harry and Robert had smiled at the box of toys Draco had sent – he'd written that it was both an opportunity to explore what Harry might have missed as a wizard child and useful for a spot of fun during his convalescence from entering stage three. Let it not be said that Draco wasn't right. Harry and Robert spent the afternoon playing various children's board and card games then spent the evening putting together a dragon puzzle, one that moved once it was completed.

All in all, the day had gone well and Robert had managed, mostly, to keep Harry's mind off October's mistake.

--August 4--

"This is an outrage!" the portly father of his suitor yelled. "How dare you accuse my wife of trying to poison you?"

Harry idly noted the horrified expression on his suitor's face. He'd bet anything that Gustav hadn't been involved in any way with the scheme to dose him with a binding potion through the soup. Nevertheless, this meant one more suitor down. Too bad, really. Gustav had been one of the most likely four. Not that that mattered now, but still…

"This is an outrage!" the man yelled again.

Harry stood and said chillingly, "You're right. It is." He activated his portkey then and left his grandfather to deal with the situation.

--August 7--

"Carlos?" Harry said.

Carlos sighed and said sadly, "I know. I knew as soon as you requested a family meeting that I would be eliminated. If I'm truly honest, I will admit that I've suspected for a long time that I would never win your hand because of the attitudes of several of my family members."

"You're a good man, Carlos," Harry said as he put a hand on the man's arm. "I'm sorry this won't work out. I wish you the best in finding someone to share your life."

"Thank you," Carlos said with a sad smile. "It is I who should apologize, however, for exposing you to their vitriol needlessly. I can be a selfish man at times and I wanted to see you one last time." He pressed a card into Harry's hand. "I would be honored if we could still keep in touch."

"I'd like that," Harry said sincerely. A minute later he was whirling his way back home, three hours early.

--August 9--

"Harry, please eat," Robert said softly.

Harry looked up at his grandfather and saw the man's worry clearly written in every line on his face. Harry looked back down at the mangled remains of his crepes and nodded. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "May I have some bacon and eggs?" He kept his eyes down as the plate was taken from him less than half a minute later.

"I'm proud of you, Harry," Robert said. "You've made it all the way through round four."

"Except for one," Harry said softly and covered his eyes with his hands and leaned his elbows on the table.

"Except for one," Robert conceded.

"I can't believe I screwed it all up so badly," Harry said plaintively. "I'm so sorry. I thought I was being so careful." Merlin, he wanted to just cry and cry. He'd barely managed to keep it together during the dates the last few days. Third stage Désespoir was really hitting him hard. Of course, the knowledge of his mistake wasn't helping his stress levels any.

"Hush, Harry. It's not your fault," Robert said for probably the hundredth time.

"Of course it's my fault," Harry denied. "I'm the one who put on the bracelet. I'm the one that became dependent on it without even knowing. I'm…"

"Yes, Harry," Robert interrupted sternly. "Without even knowing. You didn't know. I didn't know. Nobody knew. It's not your fault."

Harry shook his head but didn't reply.

"As I said, I'm proud of you for finishing round four," Robert said. "And it's earlier than we thought you would be finished and with much fewer people. This is a good thing, Harry. You only have four suitors left."

Harry laughed a bit hysterically. "What does it matter? The choice is already made. There wasn't any point in going on those dates this past week. There wasn't any point in going on any dates this whole year!"

"Harry!" Robert called sharply to derail another hysterical rant by his grandson. "If for no other reason, those dates were necessary for public appearances."

Harry choked off another hysterical laugh. "And what are we going to do about _public appearances_ now?"

"We will tell the last three that you simply felt more comfortable with the fourth suitor and leave it at that," Robert said. "There is no need for anyone but a chosen few to know the full truth."

"That's not even a partial truth!" Harry protested, becoming even more agitated.

"It's _completely_ true," Robert said sternly. "It's not the complete truth, but it is completely true. You made nearly all your eliminations fairly. It is only these last three that could possibly claim unfair bias. Take comfort in that."

Harry moved his hands to the top of his head and pulled on his hair. "Are you _sure_?" he asked desperately. "Are you sure that all those eliminations were _my_ doing? The bracelet…"

"Did not affect your mind in that way," Robert said sternly. "Do you doubt Healer Monroe?"

"I…no," Harry said miserably.

"Then be glad that you did not know the extent of your dependence upon the charm until just recently," Robert said. "You eliminated everyone fairly. And it is not your fault that this has happened."

"I should've known," Harry said, pulling his hair a little harder. "Stuff like this always happens to me and…"

"Harry!" Robert said sharply then sighed in relief when a servant arrived with the requested bacon and eggs. "Eat your breakfast, Harry," he said softly.

And because he didn't know what else to do, Harry did.


	28. Harry's Summer II

**Updated 5/25/2008 - **_Cookies to __HeavenGoddess and ahreada_ for correcting my manners! (grin) _Cookies to luel_ for catching a misnamed character.

perqs – short for perquisites (benefits)

A/N: For those of you who asked about Lucius – there is some explanation about him here.

_Cookies for __iluvchocs, GreenEyedCatDragon,_ _Cari Marie,_ _and Honighase_ for inspiration on additions in this chapter

**Chapter 28 – Harry's Summer II**

--August 16--

"So that's what happened," Harry said with a slightly hysterical laugh. "I thought I'd been so careful and come to find out I messed it all up months ago! All that planning! All those meetings! Those dates! For nothing! The second I touched that bracelet it was all over!"

"Harry!" Hermione called sharply. "Stop that this instant! There is no way you could've known what would happen."

"I should've known," Harry protested. "I…"

"How?" Hermione demanded.

"I just…" Harry started.

"Just _what?_" Hermione challenged. "The only evidence available about baby charms says that children become _less_ dependent, not _more_. There was no reason to suspect that you would be any different."

"I'm always different," Harry said bitterly.

"Yes, Harry," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "You have some odd luck, that's true. But this was such an unusual situation that nobody thought anything of it. Nobody thought that the effects would be any different on someone older. It's nobody's fault, Harry. And certainly not yours."

"Do you think Malfoy knew?" Neville asked thoughtfully then immediately regretted his question when Harry became wild-eyed.

"Oh, I hope not," Harry groaned. "I don't want to be tied to someone who would trick me. Though, it's not like I have a choice now."

Hermione sighed and said. "Maybe not, Harry. I doubt Malfoy knew, though, so don't worry. How would he know? You've had another date with him, right? Did you ask?"

"I…no," Harry said hesitantly. "I…rescheduled his date to next week. Grandfather thought it might be a good idea if you guys came with me. Will you?"

Both Hermione and Neville blinked in surprise. Neville finally ventured, "You want us to go with you on your date?"

Harry nodded. "It's a meeting with the family. At the Malfoy estates. You'll come with me, won't you? I asked Lavender, too, but she's off floating in the Caribbean. We already asked if we could bring you and they said yes. You'll come, won't you? Please?"

Hermione and Neville exchanged worried glances. "Of course we'll come," Hermione said soothingly.

"Oh, good. Good," Harry said in relief. "I just… Now that I know it's him…I don't think I'll be able to stay away from him. I'm going to need someone to hold me back, I think. Grandfather thinks so, too. It was his idea. And what am I going to do at school. Maybe…"

"Harry, slow down," Neville said and clasped one of Harry's hands in an effort to settle his friend. "We'll come and keep anything from happening. We both know that you have to wait. We'll take care of you. At school, too."

"All right. All right," Harry said and took several deep breaths. It took him several minutes before he was able to calm his frantic thoughts. "So, your turn, Hermione. Tell us about the fight with your parents and what you've been doing with the Unspeakables," he said once he was calmer, even if only by a little bit.

Hermione snorted her frustration. "They wanted to go to Spain for vacation. I told them I would love to but couldn't because I had just acquired a wizarding job. They were not pleased. We had a big fight about how the wizarding world is taking over my life. I told them it was my destiny and, in retrospect, that wasn't such a good idea."

Harry laughed slightly. "Destiny is a bad word," he said. "You should never say bad words around your parents."

Both Neville and Hermione grinned at Harry's semi-joke. They both knew he was mostly serious given how _destiny_ was affecting his own life.

"So, there we were, three stubborn people, arguing about my life," Hermione said with a sigh. "Needless to say, things were said, threats were made, we all left in tears, and I left that night for a stay in The Leaky Cauldron. The next day I took up my _destiny._" The last word was said in a mockingly mystical tone.

Everyone snickered.

"I was only at the Cauldron for one night, though." Hermione said eagerly. "One of my perqs is this _house_…"

"You got a _house_?" Neville asked in surprise.

"It's _gorgeous_," Hermione gushed.

Neville and Harry raised eyebrows at each other then stared in disbelief at their friend. Hermione _never_ gushed.

"Does it have a nice garden?" Neville asked.

Hermione grinned and launched into a very detailed description of her new residence. There would be time enough tomorrow to address Harry's obviously agitated mental state and work on calming him back down to a reasonable level.

--August 21--

Robert looked over his grandson carefully. The young man was pacing off some restless energy but didn't appear to be too highly agitated. Hermione Granger's lectures over the last five days had finally sunk in to his grandson's stubborn skull. She had succeeded in doing in five days what he hadn't managed to accomplish in over two weeks. He figured it must be because of their long friendship; Harry had gotten used to the idea that his friend was almost always right.

He sent his gaze over to the young woman in question. Hermione Granger had arrived in jeans, t-shirt, sandals, and hair in worse shape than his grandson's. Now she wore a royal blue dinner dress with matching flats, sapphire jewelry, very light makeup, and had tamed her hair into a French twist with a few escaping curled tendrils. She was quite lovely. The dichotomy was amazing. And he was still wrapping his head around the fact that the young woman was head of the Unspeakables.

The last teen in the room was sitting on a chair and calmly repairing a button that had popped off his robes. Robert found Neville Longbottom to be an impressive young man, in a quiet, understated way. Neville supported Harry completely and didn't try to hide that fact, but neither did he trumpet it. He accepted advice easily but didn't follow it blindly; instead, he took that advice into consideration with his own views before making a decision and sticking to it. And he acted upon his faith and beliefs; Robert was still in awe over the sheer amount of faith it must have taken to sign a betrothal contract without even glancing at the wording.

Robert's watch pulsed and he stepped away from the section of wall he had claimed as his own wait-spot and said, "Time to go." He watched in amusement as Harry tried to help Hermione into her cloak while the young woman was shrinking and putting away her book into her handbag. Neville just rolled his eyes and donned his own light cloak and stepped over to Robert to wait out the others' antics.

"You all remember what to do?" Robert asked once all three teens were clustered about him. The teens nodded and Hermione and Neville both took one of Harry's arms in their own and used their free hands to touch the portkey Robert held out. The two guards reached a hand each into the loose circle to also grasp the portkey. Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly then also touched the portkey. "Malfoy Estates," Robert intoned and the six of them were whisked off to their destination.

The trip ended with yelp, a grunt, and a high-pitched indignant cry as Harry landed flat on his back and his friends fell on top of him.

"Maybe you holding on to me before we set off the portkey wasn't such a good idea," Harry gasped out from the bottom of the stack.

Hermione scrambled to her feet immediately, her face bright red in embarrassment. "Really, Harry," she said as she tried to unobtrusively fix her clothing and make sure her hair was still in place.

Neville was just as red-faced as he gained his feet and held out a hand to help Harry. "Sorry," he mumbled, completely mortified. "Not a very dignified entrance."

Harry snorted as he allowed himself to be hauled to his feet. He glanced quickly at those Malfoys that were there to receive them. Gaius, Draco, and Pansy had on polite masks of concern, but he thought he saw a twitch on the mouth of Chloe Malfoy. He grinned at the woman before saying. "It's all right, Neville. Welcome to my life of undignified portkey landings. I suck at them."

"Language, Harry," Hermione said primly as she resumed her previous position on Harry's left. Neville took the hint and stood to Harry's right and put a hand on Harry's right shoulder.

Robert watched as introductions were made. Yesterday the four of them had pulled out the Malfoy family charm necklace Harry had received at Christmas and had worked with Harry on touching and releasing each of the charms. It had been their hope that doing so would help prevent Harry from being "clingy" today when he shook or kissed various hands. It looked like their preparations had been successful as the introductions went without incident.

Draco Malfoy stepped forward towards Harry and offered his hand then dropped it and stepped back a pace in confusion as Hermione stepped forward to block him. Robert noted in approval that the young man took the unspoken warning to heart even if he didn't understand.

"Would you like to tour the manor and grounds and meet the family?" Draco asked politely. "We've separated out family units into different areas so as not to overwhelm you with so many people at once."

Harry smiled and said, "Thank you. I appreciate the thought. I'd like to ask a question first, please."

"Of course," Draco said immediately.

"Why did you send me the baby bracelet in October?" Harry asked boldly.

Robert noted the tenseness in Harry's, Neville's, and Hermione's shoulders as the single most important question of the evening was put forward. He also noted that Draco Malfoy seemed nothing but confused and worried. Good. None of them had _really_ thought that the baby bracelet had been sent with nefarious intentions, but there was lingering doubt nevertheless. Draco's response should settle Harry's nerves just that much more.

"So that you might feel my magic," Draco answered easily. "I knew you were having the meetings last year in part so that you could feel everyone's magic. I was…concerned you would reject me out of hand if I attended one of your meetings. And I felt it was too early to ask if I could use a glamour. The bracelet was my solution."

"No other reasons?" Harry asked intently.

Draco seemed uncertain under the intense regard of all three of his schoolmates and glanced at his great-grandparents before answering. "I was still under the control of my father and I was worried I wouldn't be able to convincingly hide an absence at school if I was required to attend a meeting not on a Hogsmeade weekend. I've always wondered if you picked the first Hogsmeade weekend for the first round so as to accommodate any suitors from Hogwarts."

"No, I didn't," Harry said. "It was purely for the purpose of showing that I actually was trying to minimize my absences from school. Are there no other reasons?" Harry pressed, returning relentlessly to the previous topic.

Draco shifted nervously and haltingly admitted, "I had hoped you would see the gift as a representation of my willingness to support you, to always be there for you if you needed me."

"No other reasons?" Harry asked again.

Draco shook his head helplessly, obviously not understanding the thrust of the question.

Harry glanced at his friends, who nodded at him, then at Robert, who also nodded. Harry turned back to Draco and smiled. "Please do not touch me today. I'm…a little unbalanced. I would love to have a tour and meet your family."

Robert stayed in place as the teens, including Pansy, and the guards left the receiving room.

"May I help you?" Gaius Malfoy asked curiously.

"Yes. Do you have a place where we can speak freely?" Robert asked politely.

"Of course," Gaius replied then turned to his wife and asked, "Dearest? Could you see to it that tea is brought to my study?"

Chloe Malfoy nodded once then said, "Of course. I will see you at dinner." She curtsied to Robert then left the room.

There was no conversation as Robert followed Gaius through the manor and to a well-apportioned masculine study. He admired the carved paneling as Gaius brought up the security wards.

"Please make yourself comfortable. Would you care for some tea?" Gaius asked politely.

Robert turned to fully face his host. He wondered how much shock the man would reveal when presented with the identity of the chaperone. Well, time to see. Maybe Harry had the right idea about these harmless little amusements. Robert lifted his hands and pushed back his hood.

Gaius' eyes went wide and his breathing quickened just a little bit.

"Thank you," Robert said with a smirk. "I would love some tea. Please join me. No need for extraneous niceties." He removed his cloak and laid it over the arm of the loveseat then sat in one of the leather upholstered chairs.

Gaius silently took the opposite seat. He used the next several minutes of standard etiquette practices to completely gather his wits. When he felt sufficiently calm, he asked, "What can I do for you?"

Robert smiled and said. "We have much to discuss, Gaius. One of those things is the significance of the question my grandson asked."

Gaius eyes went wide yet again. "Oh. Oh, my."

"You are curious?" Robert asked. He considered the possibility that he was taking too much pleasure in unbalancing the man.

"Yes, of course," Gaius murmured, stunned again by this latest revelation.

"When Draco sent that bracelet he set into motion a series of events that led him to become the only viable mate for my grandson," Robert said. "The question was to ascertain whether this was done deliberately or, as we presumed, without knowledge of the true consequences."

Gaius blinked in surprise. "I'm afraid I don't understand," he said. "I do know that there were no intentions of trickery when the bracelet was sent. The same is true of the charms that were sent for Christmas."

"I believe you," Robert said. "And, more importantly, given Draco's response, Harry and his friends also believe this to be the case. Draco's response has eased all our minds. Nevertheless, the consequences are as they are and Draco will be my grandson's mate."

Gaius nodded. He was torn between jubilation that Draco had won his suit and the horror of the implication that it hadn't been a fair determination. "Are you willing to explain?"

"Yes," Robert nodded and took a sip of tea. "As I'm sure you are aware, a young child invariably grows out of any dependence they may have had on a baby bracelet. Undoubtedly, this is because the child becomes more confident in themselves."

"They do become more interested in asserting their independence," Gaius agreed.

"Indeed," Robert said. "Looking back, it is easy to see that Harry was a different case entirely, however."

Gaius leaned back and thought about what, other than age, might be so drastically different about this scenario to have caused problems. He drew in an alarmed breath in realization and tensed in his chair. "He became dependent?"

"He did," Robert acknowledged.

"As he entered Désespoir, his dependence started to increase instead of decrease," Gaius continued then stopped when the other man shook his head.

"We believe that Harry was dependent upon the charm by Christmas," Robert said.

"The magical sensitivity," Gaius said in understanding.

"Exactly," Robert agreed. "It was quite a source of consternation for Harry to realize that all those hundreds of dates he went on were, basically, a wasted effort."

"Not a wasted effort," Gaius said, shaking his head. "There would have been quite the outcry if he hadn't proceeded as he did."

Robert chuckled. "Yes, well, it took the better part of three weeks to convince him of that."

Gaius smiled slightly. "I presume that his dependence upon the charm was only recently discovered?"

"Yes," Robert acknowledged. "There was an accident the last week of July and Harry lost contact with the bracelet for nearly an hour. By the time the bracelet was retrieved he was completely frantic. And that was just due to the loss of the charm. He nearly had a total nervous breakdown when he realized the implications; that, despite all the care that we had taken to be fair to everyone, the courtships were over the moment he put on the bracelet."

"I thought you said he was dependent by Christmas, not immediately?" Gaius asked with a frown.

"Harry was not thinking clearly after the accident and believed differently," Robert said dryly. "It was another three-week effort to convince him otherwise."

"I see," Gaius said. He sighed. "I am pleased that Draco has won Mr. Potter's hand but I wish it had been a true victory."

Robert laughed in amusement. "Do not fret so. I was already writing the alliance contract for our families in March."

Gaius looked quite surprised. "Indeed?"

"Oh, yes," Robert said with a chuckle then leaned forward conspiratorially. "It was always Draco this and Draco that. So-and-so's gift wasn't as nice, as well thought out, as appropriate, as Draco's. And after January's date, it was so-and-so wasn't as interesting a conversationalist as Draco or didn't set up as unique of a date as Draco. Draco, Draco, Draco."

"He was aware of Draco's identity?" Gaius asked curiously.

Robert laughed again. "He's always known. I think he plans on revealing that during dinner for everyone's amusement," he said then returned to the previous topic. "And then there was Harry's date with Martin Goyle."

"Oh?" Gaius asked. He'd heard from Martin that the date had gone well and that Mr. Potter had seemed accepting of the information he had received about the Malfoy family. Martin had withdrawn in late June after receiving a mysterious letter. Martin had told the Dark Lord that he had been eliminated, but had informed Gaius that the requirements delineated in the letter contradicted his sworn duties. He understood that reason now that he knew just what Mr. Potter's status was within Veela society.

Robert raised his eyebrows pointedly at Gaius' attempt at innocence in regards to his admittedly benevolent interference.

Gaius smiled slightly and said, "I think I'd like to pretend that I had nothing to do with that date."

"Of course," Robert said with a smirk. "We'll all just ignore the vassal oaths, then, that would have held the man to secrecy without express permission."

"Of course," Gaius said, still smiling slightly.

Robert chuckled. "After that it became Draco this and Draco that and do you know what his family is doing? I assure you that I was already certain of Draco's win, barring any nasty surprises, of course. His friends agree with me as well, should you feel inclined to ask them. None of us informed Harry, however, and let him keep his illusion of fair play. And he was fair. He just didn't realize he had already subconsciously made a choice."

"I am glad to hear that. Thank you," Gaius said in relief. "May I tell the rest of the family about the situation with the bracelet?"

"I would prefer you tell only your wife and those whom you deem need to know the information," Robert answered. "Harry will inform Draco himself at some point after their mating. This information could be damaging should it accidentally reach the wrong ears."

Gaius nodded his understanding and obedience. "So be it. Did you bring the alliance contract with you? Has a date been chosen for the mating?"

Robert pulled a scroll from his robes and held it out but did not release it when Gaius grasped the other end. He looked the other man in the eye and said, "The mating will not happen until Christmas and I will tell you why." He released the scroll and waited for Gaius to compose himself from yet another shock.

"Why wait so long?" Gaius asked eventually after setting the scroll aside. "Why risk entry into stage four?"

And so Robert told Gaius about Harry's link with Voldemort and what they thought would be necessary to eliminate it. Understandably, Gaius did not appear pleased.

"This is a desperate gamble you are taking," Gaius said somberly.

Robert smiled grimly. "Desperate situations call for desperate measures."

Gaius poured himself and his guest more tea and thought about all he had been told. "Will Draco be told why he is going to be tormented for the next four months?"

"We leave that to your discretion," Robert said. "If he is told it might lessen his reactions and reduce the power behind the completion of the bond in December. Therefore, perhaps it is better if he remains ignorant. On the other hand, he is an intelligent young man and may figure it out anyway, thereby eliminating any benefit in not telling him."

Gaius sighed and nodded. "That is true. He has told me about your grandson's link to the Dark Lord Voldemort and so I know he is quite aware of it. I believe that, even if he was not told, he would figure out the puzzle before the start of school. Then he'd just be annoyed. It will be best to simply tell him. I will take care of that tonight after your departure."

"Thank you," Robert said as he picked up his tea. "I apologize for my abruptness, but I find myself quite curious about something and would like to ask you a question. We do have limited time until dinner is served and much to discuss."

"Please ask," Gaius said then added dryly, "A few more shocks to my system today shouldn't do me any harm."

Robert chuckled appreciatively then said, "I wonder about your grandson Lucius. With your family's activities, I find his…public opinions to be odd. Is there some reason he split with the family? Will it affect his son and therefore Harry?"

Gaius sighed sadly. "Lucius…," he started then sighed again. "Lucius is proof that I am as capable as anyone at making big mistakes. Abraxas, my son, died when Lucius was six years old. Officially, Abraxas died from dragon pox. However, that is only the partial truth. Abraxas contracted dragon pox while on a business trip to China, as he had several times before, and realized that fact soon upon his return. He immediately went to St. Mungo's for treatment, a treatment that entailed a curative potion and a night in the hospital for observation."

"He had a bad reaction to the potion?" Robert asked curiously.

"No, not exactly," Gaius said and poured more tea. "He had a bad reaction, yes, but it was to the _wrong_ potion. Dragon pox comes in as many varieties as dragons and giving the wrong curative can be fatal."

"All right," Robert said. He wondered what this had to do with Lucius' current opinions but held his tongue.

"The assistant that chose the potion and administered it did not take proper care," Gaius said distantly as he swirled his tea. "It was a stupid mistake. A preventable mistake. A mistake made due to laziness and carelessness. A mistake made by a muggle-born."

"Ah," Robert said, beginning to understand. "And he blames all muggle-borns for his father's death."

Gaius nodded. "Catherine, Abraxas' widow, took Lucius to live with her family. This, in and of itself, was not a bad thing. However, Catherine became bitter over the loss of her husband and blamed not just the lazy assistant but all muggle-borns. Her hate eventually expanded to include all muggles as well. She taught her hate to her son. As Lucius was always polite when visiting, I did not become aware of the damage until much too late."

"Does he work against the family, then? Against their goals?" Robert asked with a frown. "Should Harry get involved in your activities, should I be worried for him?"

"Lucius does not know our goals," Gaius said firmly. "The family's activities, sensitive as they are, are not revealed to any member who has not yet graduated from school. This is especially true if they are attending Hogwarts."

"Draco doesn't know?" Robert questioned in surprise. "But the ideas he spoke of to Harry…"

Gaius smiled proudly. "Draco is a good boy. Lucius and Narcissa never did spend much time with him and he often came here. Draco, unlike Lucius, picked up on many of the family beliefs. He will be told the truth after he graduates."

"Then why does Lucius not know?" Robert asked curiously. "Martin Goyle knows and, I presume, so does Clement Crabbe."

"Martin and Clement know because they took their oaths when they were fourteen, long before they swore allegiance to Voldemort. Lucius does not know because he swore himself to that monster before he even graduated school," Gaius said sadly. "Because he did, he was unable to swear his oaths to the family and the family secrets were not revealed to him. He was very angry at that."

"I imagine," Robert murmured. "Then Draco's beliefs are all the more to his credit."

Gaius inclined his head but didn't comment.

"That alleviates some of my fears," Robert said. "May I presume that Lucius doesn't visit often?"

"Once it was discovered that his first allegiance was sworn elsewhere, Lucius was banned from all Malfoy estates but his own home," Gaius said grimly. "You need not fear for your grandson's safety should he choose to live or visit here."

"And Narcissa?" Robert asked.

"Has not been keyed in to the family wards," Gaius said. "I never did approve of her."

Robert relaxed slightly. "I am glad to hear that, though I am also sorry at the essential loss of your grandson."

Gaius gave a small bitter smile. "I thank you."

"Will they cause problems for Draco and Harry once the mating is made public?" Robert asked.

"They may try, but between us I am sure we can provide safety for the boys and any family they have," Gaius said indifferently.

Robert nodded and sipped his tea.

"Do you have any other fears for your grandson's happiness?" Gaius asked politely.

"Not at the moment," Robert said with a smile. "I do have a question related to your family's activities."

"Please ask," Gaius said. "I will answer whatever you wish.

"Do you have many vassals in Britain?" Robert asked boldly. This was actually Harry's question – he had been worried about the future safety of the myriad of nameless vassals that came with his new family.

"About a quarter of our vassals are in Britain," Gaius answered easily. It wasn't an unexpected question, after all.

"As a mark of our forthcoming alliance – and as a secret in return for the secret of your family's clandestine activities – let me tell you about a prophecy and the danger it presents to you and your vassals…"

The two men spent the remainder of the time until dinner in deep discussion about the future of Britain and how they might prevent the destruction from spilling too far into other countries.

--Dinner--

Pansy studied her dinner companions as she solidified some ideas in her head. She'd come to a variety of conclusions, and not all of them from just what she had observed today.

For instance, the meeting had been rescheduled from August 6 from 10a.m. to 2p.m. to August 21 from 2p.m. to "no later than 10p.m." Just the rescheduling from a four-hour window to an eight-hour window had twigged her suspicions. At the very least, Draco must be in the very final running. And then there was the request for the invitation to be extended to include Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger. To her, that seemed that Harry Potter was looking for the approval of his friends for the final contestants.

She wasn't sure about that last conclusion, though, once the party had arrived. She'd heard from Draco that Potter had a hard time with portkey landings, but she hadn't expected the boy to go sprawling and take his friends with him. It had been a very amusing sight and she'd had to exert a great amount of control not to laugh at the people-pile on the floor of the Malfoy's reception room. But once the three had righted themselves, Potter's two friends had taken up positions of protection to either side of him. That had twigged her suspicions, too.

She'd watched Potter very carefully then. The boy hadn't had any problems when greeting herself, Chloe or Gaius, but then Granger had stepped forward to block Draco when Draco had offered his hand. Granger hadn't seemed hostile in any way, though it was quite obvious in her expression that Draco would be getting to Potter only over her dead body.

To refuse Draco contact was…odd. Potter was still wearing Draco's bracelet so the problem obviously wasn't fear of incompatibility. The only other viable reason she could come up with was that Potter was truly getting desperate for a mate and feared that touching an acceptable suitor might make him throw rationality to the wind and try to mate that instant. This conclusion was supported when Potter had had to be pulled away by his friends from a good dozen different family members. If Potter found some of the non-suitor Malfoys so desirable then how would he react to Draco? It was no wonder they weren't allowing Draco any contact.

One thing she'd concluded from that behavior was that Potter was not just a _little_ unbalanced – he was a _lot_ unbalanced. He seemed calm and rational on the surface but she'd noted on several occasions that Potter's hands were shaking. Plus, his friends were _extremely_ attentive, much more so than could be accounted for if they were there simply to offer their opinion or approval. Third stage Désespoir must really be affecting Potter badly. She'd read about third stage, of course, but none of the Malfoy half- or full-Veela had ever progressed so far into Désespoir and so she'd no real-life experience to draw upon for comparison.

Despite his not-so-obvious state of unsettledness, Potter had comported himself very well through all three hours of the family introductions and meetings – she'd been impressed. Potter was also very good with the children. Little three-year-old Zyllah had asked to touch Potter's scar and while the Malfoy adults had all tensed in expectation of Potter becoming offended, Potter had simply kneeled down and let the little girl touch him. When Zyllah had declared the scar ugly and told Potter that he should get rid of it the Malfoys had blanched, but all Potter had done was nod solemnly and say he'd see what he could do.

She'd watched the responses of Neville and Granger during that little interchange and had seen them grimace and twitch respectively. She'd wondered, then, if there was already something Potter was planning in an attempt to get rid of his scar. Then she'd wondered just what it was, as neither of his friends seemed best pleased over the idea.

She'd also not missed the fact that the chaperone had not accompanied them. Draco hadn't missed that fact either and had gotten a hopeful look on his face. She'd glared him back into sensibility, but she, too, found the chaperone's absence to be a promising sign. After all, why else would the chaperone need to speak to the head of the Malfoy family except to discuss an alliance?

Now they were finally sitting down to dinner and Pansy was watching their guests suspiciously. She knew Neville had been raised with etiquette lessons and so wasn't surprised that her fiancé was acquitting himself well at the formal dinner. She had thought that neither Granger nor Potter had, however, which made it quite surprising that they were also doing well.

Granger was making occasional small mistakes, which Pansy took as an indication that her knowledge was new; proper formal dinner etiquette was not yet a habit for her. Still, Granger was doing acceptably well enough to not cause any offense. Potter, however… Potter was doing _very_ well. Surprisingly well, really. Just where had Potter been taught proper table manners? Who had taught him and why? And just _where _had Potter had a chance to sufficiently practice so that those manners were now habit?

Some of the questions she still had about Potter were quite frustrating.

Of course, she still wasn't sure she liked him. She knew, though, that that was mostly because she was nervous about how Potter would view her relationship to Draco should the two mate. Would he accept her? Or would he try to push her out? Just because she was going to be married didn't mean that she didn't want Draco in her life. Perhaps she ought to take the Gryffindor approach…

"Potter?" Pansy said at a break in conversation.

"Yes?" Harry asked politely, turning his attention from Chloe to the girl sitting across from him.

"How do you feel about my relationship with Draco?" Pansy asked, unable to keep all the defiance out of her voice.

Harry blinked in surprise then smiled slightly. "I think it's fine."

It was Pansy's turn to blink in surprise. "You do know that I'm his daughter by magic, don't you?"

"Yes," Harry said with a nod. "Draco told me in his letters and then Neville told me about his conversation with Draco. Best wishes, by the way."

"Pardon?" Pansy asked, unable to reconcile what appeared to be Potter's easy acceptance of the odd situation between her and Draco.

"Best wishes on your betrothal," Harry clarified. "I haven't received your present yet so I wasn't able to bring it tonight. Forgive me?"

"Of course," Pansy said reflexively. "You're fine with this? With the fact that if you and Draco mate that I'd be your step-daughter?"

Harry laughed lightly. "Yes, I'm fine with it. I do admit that it seems a bit odd that I would have a daughter older than me, though. Still, should we mate, there would always be a place for you in our home. If you've been worrying about that, please don't. Family is very important to me, and you would be family."

Pansy smiled slightly at Potter's response. Perhaps he wasn't so bad, after all. "May I ask another bold question?"

"But of course," Harry said with a grin. "I'm a Gryffindor. We thrive on bold questions."

Pansy smiled back. "What was your reaction when you read Draco's first summer letter and discovered his identity?" she asked. She was very curious about this topic and knew Draco was as well, though he would never ask. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion when Neville choked on his water and Granger picked up her napkin to hide her mouth. She stared at Potter, who now had smirk on his face.

"Why, whatever do you mean?" Harry asked innocently, trying not to burst out laughing. He glanced at Chloe Malfoy and winked. The matriarch raised an eyebrow at him but also started to smile.

"You know what I mean," Pansy said suspiciously. "What was your reaction when you first realized that it was Draco courting you?"

Harry smirk grew into a grin. "Why, I thought that his choice in rings was most excellent. A most practical gift that I still appreciate greatly. Hedwig likes it, too."

Pansy stared uncomprehendingly for a moment. Then she realized just what it was that Potter was saying and started grinning back.

Draco started sputtering.

Granger and Chloe started giggling.

Neville, Gaius, and Harry started chuckling.

Several of the nearby family members also started showing their mirth.

Pansy couldn't hold it any longer and burst into loud, helpless laughter.

Draco was still sputtering but was also now turning a lovely red. "But…but…but…how? I was so careful! I made sure there was never anything in those letters that would make you suspect me! How did you…What betrayed me?"

Harry's chuckles graduated to laughter, as did Chloe's giggles, and he was unable to answer. Harry waved towards Neville who, thankfully, was now only occasionally snickering and could actually answer.

"You have very distinctive handwriting, Malfoy," Neville said with a grin.

"I don't!" Draco protested indignantly. "My handwriting's not any different than that of anyone else who learned to write using _Anderson's Primer_."

"You have this little curlicue that you add to your capital T's," Neville said, demonstrating with a finger in the air. "And your capital M's have a long tail," he added with a zip through the air.

"And your lowercase letters are more tightly packed than most," Hermione added, having gotten control of the last of her snickers. "Really, Malfoy, I recognized your handwriting right away once I finally saw it."

Draco scowled at his still laughing family, especially Pansy and his great-grandmother.

"Anything else give me away?" he asked irritably.

"Where to start?" Hermione said in amusement. "Your scent lingered on the letters…"

"But I de-scented them!" Draco protested.

"You must have done it after you folded the letter, then, hiding your scent between the pages," Hermione said. She ignored Draco's scowl and continued, "As if those weren't enough, there was your date. And before you think that Harry looked through your glamour, he didn't. And your scent-mask held, too. But, you hold yourself in a distinctive manner. Your walk and gestures are also distinctive. Have you never identified somebody from behind just by how they stand or move?"

Draco started to answer then thought better of it. "Why did you allow me to court you, then, if you've always known?" he asked sullenly.

Harry controlled his laughter finally and shook his head slightly in amusement at Draco's pout. "Because you impressed me, Draco," he said sincerely. "I liked your letter and what you had written. It was so very different than anything I would have expected and I couldn't help but be intrigued."

Draco lost his sulky expression and smiled slightly. "Really?"

"Really," Harry said and smiled back.

Pansy, and not a few other family members, hid their amusement at Draco's delighted expression.

The remainder of dinner passed in light-hearted conversation and Pansy had several opportunities to talk with Neville about small things. She looked forward to the first date with her fiancé, which was currently scheduled for December holidays. For now they were simply exchanging letters so as to get to know each other better. Enfiancéd or not, they were still virtual strangers to each other.

A bit after the clock struck nine o'clock it became apparent just why ten o'clock had been the limit; Harry Potter was fading fast. His eyes started drooping and he sometimes lost track of conversations. Everyone noticed and Gaius had the servants skip two courses of the meal and bring out dessert.

Pansy watched as Potter laughed at the strawberry and banana trifle that was presented and happily ate his portion. He then happily ate Chloe's portion when she offered after confiding that she rather detested bananas. Potter was properly commiserating before gladly accepting the additional dessert. Pansy wondered if Potter realized that Chloe was lying through her teeth.

Once dessert was consumed, Potter and his party were led back to the receiving room and Pansy observed in confusion the rapidly increasing tension in their guests and also in Gaius. It had been such a good visit – what was going on? She watched as Potter and friends said proper goodbyes to Gaius, Chloe, and herself. Potter then turned to Draco and took a hesitant step forward.

Pansy narrowed her eyes at the grip that Neville and Granger had on the back of Potter's robes and also at Gaius as he unobtrusively moved to behind Draco. _What_ was going on? Draco didn't move from where he stood but did hold out a hand invitingly. Potter took a deep breath then stepped forward and placed his hand in Draco's and shivered slightly.

"Thank you for a wonderful evening," Potter said softly then stepped right up next to Draco, wrapped his free hand around Draco's neck, and kissed him full on the mouth.

The explosion of magic made Pansy stagger backwards a step in shock. She wasn't that powerful magically, but even she could sense the acceptance in the magic that swirled about Potter and Draco. A moment later, Gaius pulled Draco away from the kiss while Neville and Granger pulled away Potter. A moment after that the entire party disappeared.

Pansy cried out in shock and outrage then practically yelled, _"What is going on?"_


	29. 1st Term & Mating

_Cookies to __HeavenGoddess and ahreada_ for correcting my manners last chapter! (grin)

_Cookies to luel_ for catching a misnamed character last chapter.

_Draco's response _– Many of you asked about this. I never planned to actually include it but my basic thoughts were: Draco's dazed, Pansy's mad, Chloe's confused, Gaius calms everyone down and explains. Now everyone's mad at Voldemort but also scared and sad. Gaius doesn't relate the prophecy (asked not to) and so it is only he that knows Harry's survival is assured – everyone else is very worried. All recognize the necessity, but are still _unhappy_. Planning ensues.

_Pansy & Neville_ – Several have asked about their date. I thought about it quite a bit but eventually came to the conclusion that I just didn't have any brilliant ideas about it. So, sorry, no date details. This is the chapter where I would have placed it, had I had inspiration.

**Mpreg Warning:** The majority of this chapter is still safe for those who don't care for mpreg. Harry conceives the babies here but there is no further development on that front. I've marked the part that deals with the conception with "Conception" (creative, no?) so feel free to skip that part if you wish. I think it's pretty mild, but I leave it to your discretion to read if the concept squicks you. The first sentence of "Holidays" mentions the conception but that's it for the chapter. If you prefer, skipping the relevant section in this chapter should be safe enough to do and not lose the flow.

**Chapter 29 – 1st Term & Mating**

--September--

Harry and Fawkes were engaged in a friendly staring contest. At least, that was Harry's impression. As he continued staring at the brightly colored bird, Harry also got the impression that Fawkes knew both Harry's plans and what was to be the future of Britain and, while sad, accepted the necessity. As he should, Harry realized suddenly. Did not a phoenix burn to ashes before becoming renewed? Was not Britain bound to burn before becoming something new?

"I specifically told you that you were to stay within Hogwarts when you were not courting, Harry," Albus said sternly.

Harry ignored the man, as he had during the prior five minutes of scolding. Sooner or later, the man might actually say something important.

"Where did you stay this summer, Harry?" Albus demanded.

Harry finally turned his gaze to the headmaster and raised his eyebrows in disbelief. Did the man really think he was going to answer that?

"I am your legal guardian and I require an answer," Albus said firmly.

"I'm seventeen," Harry murmured. He was fully aware, however, that Dumbledore had had the guardianship extended due to "extenuating circumstances." The documents had been quite specific. Of course, his grandfather could have the documents voided in less than a day…

"My guardianship extends until you are twenty-one," Albus said, gazing fixedly at the recalcitrant boy across from him. "I told you this when I gave you the legal papers."

"Convenient laws, weren't they?" Harry mused softly. "Too bad they're completely immaterial."

Albus blinked in surprise at Harry's response then narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

Harry just smiled slightly and kept his silence.

"I have had _The Veela Accords_ reviewed carefully," Albus said, his eyes still narrowed. "There is nothing within them that precludes me from having custody of you as long as I allow you to court and mate."

Harry's expression didn't change.

"You will obey me, Harry," Albus said, his tone unyielding. Harry _would_ take up his duties under Albus' guidance.

"I will do as I will," Harry denied, still smiling. "I am an adult. I do not even have to stay here at Hogwarts if I do not want."

Albus rose and pulled his wand. He didn't allow it to show, but he was taken aback when Harry simply remained seated and smiling.

"And what will you do?" Harry asked in amusement. "Cast imperious on me?"

Albus stiffened in offense. "I would never cast such a dark spell," he said harshly. How dare the boy accuse him of such vile magic!

"Then what? Compulsions? Anyone who can fight off an imperious can fight off compulsion spells," Harry said as he watched the headmaster in unconcerned amusement. He already had an idea of what the headmaster was planning and was looking forward to it failing spectacularly.

Albus gave Harry a sad look. "Do you really think so little of me that I would stoop to such things?"

Harry chuckled slightly. "Well, you are the one holding a wand on me," he said sensibly. "I don't even have my wand out, not to mention my training is about a century less than yours. You are definitely the aggressor here. What could I possibly do against you?" In actuality, he was counting heavily on Dumbledore _not_ casting any truly nefarious spells.

Albus simply continued to gaze at Harry sadly – a look, he noted, that Harry completely ignored – and said, "This will not harm you."

"I don't expect it will," Harry said mildly and continued to sit calmly as he listened and watched as Dumbledore began waving his wand and casting his spell. Harry's smile widened as he recognized the words. His grandfather had been right in his supposition; Dumbledore was casting a tether.

Albus was disconcerted as Harry not only made no move to escape but also started to smile. Nevertheless, he continued his casting of the strongest magical tether possible. The tether would require Harry to be within 1,500 feet of him at all times. He could have made it closer, of course, but didn't want to inconvenience either of them by tying the tether too close. After all, there was no reason for both of them to attend Harry's classes. He would have to accompany Harry on his dates now, but that was actually a benefit; now he would be able to positively identify all the remaining suitors and make sure they were properly informed of Harry's destiny and prepared to help in the coming war.

Harry stared Dumbledore in the eyes as he felt the magic of the tether wash over him…and dissipate.

Albus' eyes widened and his jaw dropped in shock. "What…?" The only reason the tether would fail was if there was already a tether in place.

Harry laughed outright at the look on Dumbledore's face. Priceless!

"This is no laughing matter, Harry," Dumbledore said grimly. "You do not know what this means. This could be disastrous." He sat back down as he contemplated the ramifications. If the one that held the tether kept Harry away from the war…

Harry stopped laughing and stood slowly. He put his hands on the headmaster's desk and leaned forward. The small amused smile was replaced with a vindictive, condescending smirk. "You want to know where I was this summer?" he asked darkly.

"I do," Dumbledore answered calmly. Inside, however, he was unnerved. This was a cold, hard man in front of him, not a sympathetic and smiling child.

"I was at my grandfather's," Harry said simply, softly, then sat back down. His smirk was still in place.

Albus was shocked for the second time in less than five minutes. "Your grandparents are dead," he said softly.

Harry rolled his eyes. "My mother got her Veela genes from somewhere, you know, and it wasn't from the same parents as Petunia."

Albus was quiet a moment. "Your mother was not adopted," he said finally. "Petunia was her sister or the wards would not have worked."

Harry snorted and shook his head. The headmaster was obviously _trying_ to keep his head in the sand. "Petunia is, very much unfortunately, my aunt. My half-aunt, I suppose you could call her."

"How is that possible?" Albus asked quietly.

Harry blinked. Surely that was a rhetorical question? He decided to answer anyway. "It's like this. Grandmother Evans didn't much like her husband and when a charming French businessman came to Britain for a few months she decided she was due some fun. In short, she, an untrained muggle-born witch who never attended Hogwarts, cheated on her husband with a Veela. You must have thought out the possibilities when you became aware of my heritage, Headmaster. Surely you thought of this one? Even if you didn't, I'm pretty sure it was one of the featured theories in _The Prophet_ at some point. With all the theories they put forward, they were bound to hit upon the truth eventually."

"Who is your grandfather?" Albus asked. He needed to speak with the man urgently. It was clear that the grandfather was having a detrimental effect on Harry. Albus needed to ensure that the man stopped interfering in Harry's destiny.

"None of your business," Harry said mildly. "All you really need to know is that all your pretty little legal documents aren't worth the parchment they're written on. Oh, and, of course, that your pretty little tether spell won't work either."

"He has a tether on you," Albus said faintly, understanding completely now why his own spell hadn't worked.

"Yes," Harry said then sneered in disgust. "As I'm sure you're _quite_ aware, even the weakest of blood wards are stronger than other wards. The same is true for tethers. The weak tether my grandfather cast on me will always be stronger than any tether you – a man completely unrelated to me even ten generations back – can possibly muster, no matter _what_ your magical power. Now, to satisfy the tether, I will spend every Friday night away from Hogwarts. I will return for Saturday breakfast. You will not stop me. Unless, of course, you actually do wish for me to suffer?"

Albus shook his head weakly. No, no he didn't want the boy to suffer. He just wanted him to fulfill his destiny and defeat Voldemort. "I would like to speak with your grandfather."

Harry laughed. "I'll tell him," he said, "but I doubt he'll concede to meeting you. He holds you in a great deal of contempt, you see. You know, the whole dropping off his grandson on the doorstep of a magic-hating muggle without so much as bothering to find any other _willing_ relatives that would be better suited."

"I knew of no other relatives," Albus murmured as he shook his head.

Harry snorted in derision. "Maternus Potion," he said sharply. "And, look, you had, and still have, a nice little pet potions master who could have brewed it for you so you could get a nice little list of all my still living maternal relatives. By the way, don't try it now, I've had a block put in place. Snape tries to brew that potion now and it'll just explode in his face."

"There was no reason…" Albus started before being interrupted by an angry Harry.

"Well, of _course_ there was no reason," Harry said contemptuously. "After all, you didn't even _bother_ to ask Petunia if she wanted me. If you had, _as you should have_, she would have said no. If you had, there would have been every reason to brew the potion, _which only takes a day_, to find other suitable relatives. You didn't_ bother. _Tell me, Headmaster, did you have some secret desire to see me neglected and abused? Was there some sort of reason known only to you and your pathetic little secrets."

"No, Harry…" Albus started again.

"You _stole_ my life from me," Harry said angrily. "You stole my _family._ You _dumped_ me with people that hated me before they'd even seen me. And you have the gall to look at _me_ in disappointment? Have you never thought about what kind of _monster_ your actions make you? You use different spells. You use different tactics. You call upon different allies. But your absolute belief that _you_ are right, that only _you_ can be your side's leader, that _your_ actions are justified makes you just as narrow-minded, pigheaded, and downright _arrogant_ as Voldemort."

Albus paled. "Surely you don't mean that?" he asked softly. He couldn't believe their relationship had degraded so badly that Harry would compare him to such evil.

"Every. Word," Harry said vehemently. He doubted, though, that his words would make a difference. Dumbledore was entrenched in his ways and Harry saw no hope, not even in the coming destruction, that the man would change.

"We should continue this discussion another time," Albus said dejectedly. "Perhaps when we have both had some time to think things over."

Harry shrugged his indifference. "My opinions aren't likely to change," he said coldly. "And you have offered nothing for me to _think over_."

Albus sighed in defeat and closed his eyes. "You may go, Harry."

Harry left immediately and without another word. Albus sat at his desk long into the night creating and discarding various scenarios that would ensure the boy's loyalty to the Light and the cause of Voldemort's quick defeat. If the boy wasn't putting the entire world in danger in favor of being so obstinate, Albus would never have considered such desperate measures.

--October--

Draco clenched his hand tightly under the table. If that stupid bint said one more word…

"Everyone is disgusted with you for refusing to join our Lord," Millicent Bulstrode hissed angrily, but still softly enough that only those closest could hear. "You were raised to serve our Lord and you're abandoning him like some Hufflepuff coward! Our Lord was going to put a price on your head at last night's meeting but your father begged for the honor of taking your life himself. Our Lord…"

"ENOUGH!" Draco yelled as he stood up, fire in his eyes though not yet around his hands. "You are a _fool_, Bulstrode, just as is my _sire_ and everyone else that serves that disgusting piece of _filth_!"

Conversation in the Great Hall immediately stopped and all attention was turned to a raging Draco Malfoy.

"Do you think it the height of ambition to kneel like a _slave_? To kiss the hem of the robe of someone whose body is an _abomination_ of magic? Why don't you go kiss the robes of an inferi? That would be _better_!" Draco yelled.

"How _dare_…" Millicent started to protest angrily.

"Shut up!" Draco interrupted furiously. "You stupid, stupid girl! You call me a Hufflepuff coward? Some of our greatest heroes in history were Hufflepuffs! Kiernan MacDougal, Leon Banks, Matthias Chadwick! I'd rather be grouped with them than a group of pathetic, servile, _bullies_ like the Death Eaters!"

"The Death Eaters are the warriors who will secure our future! You should honor them!" Millicent yelled back as she also stood.

"The _Death Eaters_ are the cowards! How much courage does it take to attack someone who can't fight back? None! So who are the real cowards?" Draco shouted.

Wide eyes and open-mouthed stares were the most common expressions throughout the entire hall. Even most of the teachers were wearing shocked expressions.

"Show some pride in your House!" Draco yelled as he flung an arm out to indicate the Slytherin banner. "Salazar valued ambition, cunning, and _family_! You think he would be pleased to meet my father? He would have spat on him! There is nothing _Slytherin_ about _begging_ for the _honor_ of killing your own child! That's _despicable_! My father is a _fool_!"

"It is you who are the fool!" Millicent screamed fanatically. "The Dark Lord is the greatest power that has ever lived! He will cleanse the world of the disgusting muggles and mudbloods! He will bring back purity to wizardkind! He will…"

"He will bring destruction!" Draco roared. "He will bring nothing but shame to our race! When he is finally turned to ash his name will be remembered only as a blight upon our history!"

"He shall never be defeated! He is immortal and shall rule us in glory forever!" Millicent shrieked madly.

"The Gods shall laugh at his twisted soul and shred it to oblivion!" Draco bellowed. "And the same fate shall be shared by all his pathetic dogs! All of you…"

Draco's rant stopped abruptly as three red spells impacted him from different directions and very short range. Vincent Crabbe caught Draco as he slumped at the same time that two more red spells impacted Millicent. Nobody bothered to catch her, though, and she fell ungracefully against the table, scattering dishes, utensils, and food.

Pansy stood and sent her gaze grimly around the Great Hall. Most were still shocked, some were appalled, only a few were starting to look scared. Her gaze swept to the Gryffindor table and she noted that while Harry was still somewhat shocked he was also starting to smile. She locked eyes with Hermione Granger and tried to get across her message. The other girl nodded ever so slightly.

"Bring him," Pansy said softly to Vincent and left the Great Hall at a sedate pace. Vincent, with Draco, and Gregory followed her. They would let the teachers deal with the consequences of that fight.

Pansy was on the fourth chapter of her new novel when Draco finally stirred from the stunners he'd been hit with. She marked her place, set the book aside, and waited.

Draco blinked his eyes open and stared in confusion at his canopy. Wasn't he just at lunch a moment ago? His eyes widened as his memory came rushing back. He groaned miserably and covered his eyes with one arm. "Please tell me I didn't actually go off on Bulstrode in the middle of lunch," he said to the girl he knew must be there.

"Well, I might classify it as revealing surprising information in a public forum," Pansy said casually.

Draco whimpered.

"It's not as bad as you think," Pansy said with some amusement.

"Merlin," Draco whined. "How can this possibly be not as bad as I think? The things I said…"

"Harry was impressed," Pansy said. That should get his attention.

Draco lowered his arm and looked over to Pansy hopefully. "He was?"

Pansy smirked at the pathetically hopeful expression on her friend's face. "Well, I heard from Hermione Granger that he was grinning like an idiot the entire rest of lunch. I admit I took that as an indication of a positive response."

Draco smiled. "You're right, it's not all bad."

"Of course, Millicent wants your spleen on her dinner plate," Pansy said blithely.

Draco shook his head. "Of course she does," he murmured. He'd have to watch himself around her from now on. Bulstrode, Death Eater hopeful that she was, was no slouch in the dueling department. "You'll help me watch her?" Draco asked.

"Of course," Pansy said and waved a hand dismissively. "You know you don't have to ask. Vin and Greg, too."

"Thank you," Draco said with a sigh. "I should apologize."

"No, actually, I don't think you should," Pansy said with her own sigh. "The two of you scared a lot of students today, but I think your words have really gotten a lot of them thinking. Finally. Should you apologize, the impact you had today will diminish greatly."

Draco cupped his hands behind his head and stared at his canopy. "I'm sure you're right," he said eventually. "But at least let me apologize to you for the hassle of dragging my unconscious body through the dungeon corridors."

"Vin did it," Pansy said dismissively.

Draco smiled as he recognized that he was forgiven.

"I talked with Granger and we decided to drop the afternoon meeting," Pansy said into the silence and braced herself for Draco's response.

"What?" Draco cried in alarm as he quickly sat up and stared at his friend in disbelief.

"You're too agitated," Pansy said firmly. "Today's outburst is ample evidence of that."

"That's the point!" Draco exclaimed in alarm.

"Draco…"

"No!" Draco denied loudly. "The whole point of setting up thrice daily meetings was to get me into as desperate a state as Harry! We need the bond to be as powerful as possible! We can't…"

"And what kind of bond will you have if someone figures out why you're so agitated and _kills_ you!" Pansy yelled over Draco's protests.

Draco drew in a shocked breath.

"You're a mess, Draco," Pansy said softly. "It's only been a couple months, nearly. I'm not denigrating your force of will – Merlin knows you weren't prepared for this like Harry was – but you're not going to _make_ it."

"Pansy, I…," Draco stopped short, unable to really argue her point.

"You won't make it to December," Pansy said gently. "Not like this. Harry's already having a hard enough time staying away from you. If you start obviously straining towards him someone will figure it out and then you'll both be in danger."

Draco closed his eyes and slumped in resignation. "I know," he said quietly.

"So Granger and I decided to drop the afternoon meeting," Pansy said briskly. "It was the hardest one to hide, anyway. She also suggested that you take up some kind of physical fitness regimen. Physical effort should help you keep your mind relatively clear but shouldn't affect the disruption in your magic."

"I take it that means more than just quidditch," Draco said, not looking forward to such a thing.

"Yes," Pansy agreed. "Vin and Greg said they'd be happy to do it with you, too. On the bright side, should Harry choose to make you chase him…"

Draco snorted. "Which he will, I'm sure," he said as he put his head in his hands.

"Then you'll be better prepared to catch him," Pansy finished. "Granger says that he can run all the way around the lake without stopping."

Draco dropped his hands and looked up in surprise and not a small bit of alarm. "He can? I'll never catch him!"

"You have two months to get in shape," Pansy said grimly with a sharp nod.

Draco nodded back just as grimly.

--November--

Minerva ran through the halls as fast as her cat form would allow. She'd quickly outstripped the already breathless fifth-year that had come to summon her and was nearly to the tower. All the child had had to do was gasp out "Potter" and she knew what was happening.

It was the 15th today, exactly two weeks past when all the teachers had expected Harry to enter the fourth stage of Désespoir. His unusual stability was attributed to the nightly snuggling he did with his friends. Every evening for two hours before curfew Harry and friends would commandeer one of the common room couches and Harry would lay his head in the lap of either Neville Longbottom or Lavender Brown-Cadbury and rest. Often the one that wasn't at Harry's head would sit at the other end of the couch and hold Harry's feet. Upon occasion that spot was taken by Hermione Granger or, rarely, Ginny Weasley.

But today, now, at five o'clock in the morning, Harry had finally entered stage four and was screaming and crying up in the seventh-year boys' dorm.

She made it to the guardian portrait and shifted back to human form. "Putrid Purple Pockmarks," she snapped out and strode into the Gryffindor common room then stopped short. Nearly the entire House was awake and in the common room. Also… "Why is Mr. Creevey tied up and stuck to the wall?" she demanded.

"He was headed to get his camera," said one of the fifth year girls. "We didn't want any more trouble today and thought we should keep him from getting murdered."

"I _assure_ you that no one…," Minerva started.

"Granger said she'd do it herself if she saw a single hair of his near Potter before he was ready to come down from the dorms," said one of the third-years. All of the students looked like they believed it.

Minerva pursed her lips but said nothing. Given Miss Granger's attitude the past six months, she wasn't sure she didn't also believe it. She ignored the situation for now and quickly headed up the stairs and to the now silent seventh-year boys' dorm. She wasn't surprised when she tried the door and found it locked. She _was_ surprised when nothing she did allowed her entrance. She pounded on the door. "Let me in this instant!" she called loudly.

The door was open less than two seconds as Minerva was grabbed, pulled in, and the door slammed shut behind her. She was about to object to the rude handling when her eyes were caught on the tableau before her.

A very naked Harry Potter was arched and convulsing with an equally naked Neville Longbottom and Lavender Brown desperately working to keep him from hurting himself. But it wasn't the nudity that had caught her attention. It wasn't even Harry's loud, pained cries. Harry's magic was visibly coruscating across his body and throwing off occasional sparks. The magic rippled and spun, swirled and eddied, almost as if it was trying to escape. It was a sight at once both awe-inspiring and horrible.

"Merlin, we need to get him to the infirmary," Minerva said and stepped forward to do just that. She didn't expect to be met with a wand in her face.

"You will do no such thing," Hermione said dangerously. "He will remain here, in our care, until he is ready to face the world. That might be later today or that might be a week from now. It doesn't matter which. You have now seen him and can confirm the situation with others. Please leave. Should he notice you, your presence will only disturb him."

"Fifty points from Gryffindor for drawing your wand on a teacher," Minerva said angrily.

The wand didn't move and Hermione's face remained a cold, hard mask. "Leave."

"Put your wand away this instant," Minerva hissed, infuriated both by the disobedience and the disrespect. This was _exactly_ why she had refused to ratify Hermione Granger as Head Girl; Minerva had predicted this behavior, predicted that the girl would choose her friend above all else.

Hermione stepped back two steps while simultaneously pulling an object out of her robes with her left hand. She didn't drop her wand. "Do you know what this is?" she asked as she held out a silver sphere.

Minerva glanced at the sphere briefly and blinked in surprise. Nevertheless, she addressed the subject at hand. "Mr. Potter needs to be taken to the infirmary immediately. You will stop this foolishness!"

"You are the only fool here," Hermione said coldly. "Harry will not be going anywhere near that woman. There is nothing she can do for him but make him worse."

"He could die without appropriate assistance!" Minerva said, practically shaking in anger.

"Which he won't get from _her_," Hermione spat in disgust. "We are the only _appropriate assistance_ he needs. And he won't die." At least that prophecy was good for something, she thought.

"Yes, he could!" Minerva insisted. "Madam Pomfrey…"

"Is incompetent, untrained, or forsworn," Hermione said emotionlessly. "She will be getting nowhere near him."

"How dare you," Minerva gasped. "Madam Pomfrey…"

"Should have easily picked up on the signs of neglect and abuse the very first time Harry was in the infirmary and reported it to the proper authorities," Hermione interrupted again. "She either didn't see it at all or she did see it and kept her silence. I've no interest in which it is. You're more than welcome to investigate for yourself."

Minerva's eyes went wide at the accusation then her eyes narrowed in fury. "You will allow medical assistance or I will have you expelled," she ground out. "Now get out of the way." Minerva started to pull her wand but found herself disarmed before it was even half drawn.

"You never did answer my question," Hermione said dangerously. She waved the silver sphere briefly. "Do you know what this is?"

Recognizing her precarious position, Minerva pursed her lips and asked tightly, "Where did you get that?"

"That is completely immaterial," Hermione said. She certainly wasn't going to admit that she'd had her people make it for her. "Do you know what it is?"

"It's a beacon," Minerva said grudgingly.

"That's right," Hermione said softly. "A beacon. A homing beacon. I activate this little sphere and there will be a dozen Veela guards here within five minutes. If they come here, they will do anything necessary to protect Harry. _Anything._ Do I make myself clear?"

"I will see you expelled for this," Minerva said just as softly.

Hermione smiled grimly. "Go ahead," she said with some amusement. "I don't need this school. I could have passed my N.E.W.T.s three years ago and you know it. I don't think you will, though, because if I leave, so will Harry. Your precious Headmaster won't want that. No, I think I'm safe enough from your threat."

Minerva shook silently in rage and fear. This young woman before her was no longer a child, but a fierce warrior willing to protect, at any and all costs, what was important to her. And she was right. Albus would never expel her if it meant losing Harry. "Give me my wand," she whispered.

Hermione tossed McGonagall's wand to her and watched as the woman left the dorm.

"Merlin, Hermione, you're scary," Ginny whispered.

Hermione turned her head and raised an eyebrow at the redheaded girl staring at her in awe and trepidation. "You've not seen anything yet," she said. What they'd learned in the DA in fifth year was _nothing_ compared to the training she'd received this summer. With proper instruction, she'd found herself taking to dueling like a duck to water. It also probably had something to do with accepting her place as an Unspeakable. She wasn't a master like Professor Flitwick, by any means, but she'd become quite accomplished in just two months and could back up her threats of violence if necessary.

Ginny merely nodded dumbly.

"Did you silence the bed?" Hermione asked curiously, finally noticing that Harry's cries hadn't interrupted her confrontation with McGonagall.

"It didn't look like you really wanted to be interrupted," Ginny said wryly.

Hermione quirked a smile and turned her attention back to the occupants of the bed. Harry's condition didn't appear any better than it had ten minutes ago. She dispelled the silencing charm, despite not wanting to hear Harry's cries. They needed to be able to encourage him and hear if he actually spoke.

It was a long, hard hour before Harry stopped convulsing every other minute. It was another hour before his magic retreated back inside his body. It was six more hours before he was able to speak even a little bit coherently. It was another six hours before Harry was stabilized to their satisfaction. It was only fifteen minutes after that that they were all asleep.

It was two days later that the party emerged from the dorms, only Harry looking the worse for wear. McGonagall's glare was still furious, but many of the remaining teachers only looked concerned or thoughtful. The entire student body gasped and gossiped over Harry's ragged appearance. It was only Ron Weasley, though, that spent any time in the infirmary due to damage from a Veela's fireball as a result of voicing nasty comments.

Speculation ran rampant throughout the school, and then the media, about whether or not Harry would find a mate in time. The nastier papers claimed that Harry had already chosen a mate but was delaying the mating for some selfish purpose. It really was quite ironic that nobody believed those papers; they were actually right.

Everybody carefully watched, in fear or fascination, as Harry Potter started truly falling apart.

--December--

The Saturday morning that marked the start of the winter holidays was marked by an unexpected event. Nichol, the great huge eagle that had been absent all term, arrived at breakfast with a loud screech of triumph.

Everyone watched in curiosity as Harry rose and lifted his gloved fist into the air, inviting the bird to land. Nichol took the offered perch, spread her wings wide, raised her head, and let out another loud triumphant screech. Everyone watched as Harry removed something from the eagle's left leg then launched the bird back into the air. Everyone watched as Harry gave his first smile in five weeks then laughed in delight.

Whispers started immediately. Was this it? Was this the suitor that had won? Would Harry Potter finally mate? Who had been chosen?

Harry turned to his friends. "Are you ready?" he asked with quiet eagerness. He was well past ready to mate.

Lavender smiled softly. "Of course we're ready, Harry," she said. "All packed and ready to go. In fact, our trunks have already been picked up by one of Neville's house-elves and should be waiting for us at the gates. Would you like to leave now?"

Harry nodded eagerly so Hermione, Neville, and Lavender stood to join him.

"Good luck, Harry," Ginny said sincerely. She was aware that while she was privy to some things about Harry's courtship, there were other things that were being kept confidential. She understood the necessity and didn't begrudge the others those secrets. Of course, it helped that she knew that Lavender was only in the know by accident.

"Going to go spend a week shagging, Potter?" Ron called loudly, most of the still whispering hall easily hearing him. The Hall was even more quiet as Ron spoke again, his jealousy showing in his words. "Finally decided who you're going to spend hours of ecstasy with?"

Everyone was expecting another sight of fireballs and was therefore surprised when Harry simply gaped at Ron then started laughing hysterically.

"What's so funny?" Ron demanded angrily.

"Hours of ecstasy?" Harry finally managed to question in amused disbelief. "You obviously _still_ haven't bothered to read anything about Veela. We're a mix of human and hawk, you know. Do you know how long hawks go at it? Five seconds would be a _marathon_. And that's if they do it on the ground or on a perch. If they did it in the air, and some do, sex takes, like, a quarter second. Sex at a Veela's initial mating is the same. It's in, out, and over. Hours of ecstasy, indeed!"

Harry walked away, laughing at Ron's foolishness. His friends followed him, snickering and smirking at the bright-red faces all around the Great Hall. Thankfully, Nichol had come near the end of breakfast so Harry and his friends had already finished eating and had simply been chatting amiably as they waited for the delivery of the portkey.

"And just where do you think you are going?" demanded McGonagall as she caught up with them outside the doors. "The carriages will not be leaving for another hour."

"Tell your master that we are all adults and are exercising our right to leave school grounds for sufficiently important personal reasons, as per code 143 in _Hogwarts: A History_," Hermione said without even bothering to look back.

"And what are those reasons?" McGonagall asked furiously, completely missing the insult against Albus.

"We have been requested by Harry to accompany him on his mating day," Hermione responded. They'd talked about this already and had decided that there was no harm in it getting out that Harry was going to mate today. Everyone would figure it out soon enough when Harry returned in January a totally different, _normal_, person.

"It's quite the honor," Neville added as he gripped Harry's arm tightly to keep him from running towards the gates. "Only the closest friends and family are invited. Think of it as us leaving to attend Harry's wedding, if it makes you feel any better."

"And a wedding is a sufficient reason," Hermione said. "Would you like me to list some recent precedents?"

"No, Miss Granger, I would not," McGonagall hissed angrily. "What I would like is proper documentation before you set foot off these grounds!"

"You won't get it from us," Hermione said implacably. "And we are not required to give it to you at any rate. You're welcome to ask Harry for confirmation once we return, as he issued only verbal invitations."

Harry was only vaguely aware of the argument going on between his friends and McGonagall. Nearly his entire focus was on getting out of here and taking the portkey to the site of his mating. He wondered where it was that Draco had chosen. It didn't really matter. They were going to mate. Today was the day. His magics clamored. Soon. Soon. Soon.

It took only a few minutes to reach the gates and the contingent waiting there.

"What is the meaning of this?" McGonagall asked tersely upon seeing the dozen Veela guards waiting just outside the gates.

"This is to check my charge and his friends for tracking spells," the cloaked chaperone told McGonagall. "There will be no interference today."

"You dare insinuate…" McGonagall started indignantly.

But Harry didn't hear her or the rest of her protest nor any subsequent arguments. He stepped into the safety of his grandfather's arms and ignored the world, knowing that those with him would get him to where he needed to be. He didn't notice as he and all his friends tested positive for several tracking spells. He didn't notice as the spells were removed, some of them being transferred to McGonagall in annoyance. He didn't notice anything until someone tried to take the portkey from him.

Harry pulled away from his grandfather, shifted to bird form as he took a crouching position, and hissed for all his might.

"Stop that, Harry," Hermione said primly. "It's time to go. Unless, of course, you want to mate here in Hogsmeade?"

_That_ got his attention. He shook his head frantically and held out the portkey. It was a tight fit, especially with four of them holding on to trunks, but the seven of them going were able to touch the large ring that Draco had provided. His grandfather activated the portkey and moments later he found himself beak-first in leaves and snow. He shifted back to human form as he regained his feet and looked around.

"Eastern France, looks like," Neville said as he, too, looked around the snow-covered clearing, studying the plant life. "Maybe the Alps."

"There're wards thirty feet over there," Hermione said as she gestured in what appeared a random direction. "Powerful ones, too. We won't be able to see behind them until we're keyed in."

Harry felt a bit of smugness at that news; his chosen mate was obviously an excellent protector. He watched the two guards as they sent out spells to do perimeter sweeps and came up with nothing nearby. This news, too, pleased him.

"Come, Harry," Robert said. "Let's take a walk. It's a beautiful day, even if a bit chilly."

So they walked. And talked. And in the mid-afternoon Harry took a short nap on a conjured bed with spell-warmed blankets. Neville talked finance with Robert on occasion but spent most of his time studying the local plants. Hermione shared esoteric spells with the guards or read. Lavender talked with Robert about the preparations needed for Harry's presentation ball some vague time in the future and took a nap alongside Harry.

It was a long wait, but it had been deemed the wiser course of action for Draco to take the Hogwarts Express like usual and join them later with his attendants instead of also taking a portkey. They had toyed with the idea of having Harry ride the Express but dismissed it as much too confining an environment for keeping Harry calm in the last few hours before the mating.

At a quarter past four o'clock, Draco arrived with Pansy, Vincent, Gregory, his great-grandparents, and several pieces of luggage. Draco's eyes alighted on Harry and he shifted to his Veela form in readiness to pounce…only to find himself face-first in the snow as Vin and Greg tackled him. In the next second his great-grandmother had whapped him on the head and told him to behave. But this was the day! Why were they insisting he act like a gentleman for another hour! What difference would it make?

Draco was hauled to his feet – facing _away_ from his mate-to-be – and told to shift back. He eventually did but he was one very unhappy man and scowled at everyone as he tried to crane his neck to see Harry.

"Have you forgotten you need to key us into the wards, young man?" Chloe asked sharply. "There will be no mating on _this_ side of the wards, so you had best pull yourself together!"

That threat was a splash of cold water in his face and Draco gave a concerted effort to calming himself. It wasn't easy. The taunting he'd been subjected to since the week before school had done exactly as intended; his magic was _raging_ with the urge to mate. Eventually, though, he did manage it and was allowed to turn around and see Harry.

Who was looking at Draco with defiance in his eyes.

Draco growled. Oh, no, there wasn't going to be any of _that_ today. Harry was going to be his even if… He was shaken out of his overly possessive thoughts by Vincent. Draco took another deep breath and began the process of keying in his twelve guests to the wards around his own personal manor. Thirty minutes later he led them along the pathway to the front of his, and soon to be Harry's, home. The trunks had been left behind for Draco's house-elf to retrieve.

"Oh, my, Draco. This is beautiful," Pansy said in awe.

"Welcome to my home," Draco said as he bowed slightly to everyone.

"Impressive, Malfoy," Hermione said softly as she, too, gazed at the three-story manor.

"Would you like a tour?" Draco said stiffly, hating to even ask but knowing he wouldn't be able to get away with not. He wanted to mate! Forget the tour! That could be done later. Much later.

"We'd be delighted," Neville said as he and one of the guards reinforced their hold on Harry's arm, preventing him from pulling away and going to Draco.

So Draco gave his guests a tour. He showed them the grounds first, pointing out various spots were he planned to place gardens or outbuildings. None of those things were there right now, he told them, because the manor was new and he hadn't yet arranged for them to be built. He then took his guests inside and led them through the nearly empty rooms. The only furniture in the entire place was a simple bed and matching wardrobe in one of the ground floor rooms.

"I've left it unfurnished because I want you to be involved in its decoration," Draco said directly to Harry. "I want you to be comfortable here in your new home. I have a lot of catalogs in the wardrobe that I thought we could look through over the holidays."

The fire in Harry's eyes went up a notch as he grinned in delight and nodded. He was beyond speech at the moment, putting all his efforts into restraining himself just a little bit longer.

Eventually the tour was done. It seemed like an eternity to both Harry and Draco but it had actually taken only an hour. Undoubtedly the tour would have taken at least twice as long had Draco been truly inclined to show off and not just to get it done and over with. Draco led everyone back outside to their starting point.

Draco and Harry stared at each other as Robert and Gaius cast monitoring and tracking spells. At the whispered urgings of their respective guards Harry and Draco let loose their magic and let it whip wildly, desperately, against each other.

Robert stepped in front of Harry at the same time Gaius blocked Draco's view. Both young men screeched in fury and denial. "Harry! Look at me. Do you remember what to do?" Robert asked urgently.

With his last bit of coherent thought, Harry nodded.

"Then go. _Run__!_" Robert said intensely.

And Harry shifted to Veela form and sprinted away.

Draco screeched his anger and gave chase, also in Veela form, not two seconds later as his guards released him.

"Well," Lavender said as the two males disappeared into the trees. "Shall we go inside?"

--The Chase--

Harry ran. There was joy in the running, even though he knew he was being chased. The brisk evening and the beauty of the snowy landscape were a pleasure to see as he raced through trees and over small obstacles. He could hear the dominant behind him screeching in frustration. He knew this was his chosen, but refused to stop and submit. He would have to be hunted down. His chosen was going to have to prove himself one last time.

And Draco chased. It was quite the chase, too. His mate was fast and nimble. In other circumstances, this would please him. But not now! Now it was time to mate! And his mate was _running__!_ There were several times when he _almost_ caught his wily mate, but his mate was using the trees to great advantage, darting in and out and escaping at the last moment. But he had one thing his mate didn't: familiarity with the area. And his mate had just made a wrong turn and was heading towards ground that would quickly become impassable. He changed his direction to intercept where his mate would be herded by the landscape. It would only be a couple minutes now! Soon he would have his mate!

Harry followed the line of the gorge, not realizing that it was slowly changing direction and forcing him along the path of an arc. As a result, he was quite surprised when his chosen mate, previously behind him, suddenly appeared right in front of him. Unable to change direction fast enough due to his speed, he ran right into the dominant. Less than a second later he found himself face-down on the ground. He screeched his fury and struggled.

He'd caught him! All had gone to plan and Draco now had his hands full with a furious mate. All he had to do now was hold on long enough for his mate to realize that he wasn't getting away. Then they could mate and go back to the nest to rest for the night.

Harry struggled and screeched but soon came to realize that his chosen had gotten a good grip and had him well and truly subdued. He wasn't going anywhere unless his chosen released him. Once he realized that, Harry abruptly went from fighting to still.

Draco screeched his triumph and the magics flared, becoming a visible mass of swirling energy. He moved his left hand to his mate's shoulders to continue holding him down and used the claws of his right hand to rip apart the coverings on both their bodies.

Once Harry felt the cool air on his bare skin he tilted his hips. It was a move that would have lifted tail-feathers out of the way had he had any.

Draco screeched again and joined their bodies. The magics swirled into a brilliantly-colored and awe-inspiring tornado of power that was perhaps best that it was being seen by no one.

Draco screeched again as he felt his seed leave his body. The magics snapped down and through them both. Pushing, pulling, swirling, digging, flaring, flying, cutting, diving. The bond-magics permeated every cell of their bodies, every corner of their minds, and every tendril of their magics. It merged them for an eternity, a millisecond, then abruptly settled into a contented background hum.

Draco crooned. It was done! They were mated! He lay against his mate placidly, waiting. He didn't move until his mate twittered in discontent. He unjoined them and moved away then rose and offered his hands.

Harry smacked the hands aside with an agitated chattering. He rose and stripped the remainder of the coverings from his body in irritation then started off in what he thought was the direction of the nest. His mate stood in his way and pointed a different direction. He chattered again but changed his direction obediently. It took about half an hour of tromping through snow and the occasional examining of interesting things to get back to the nest.

Draco trailed after his mate uncomplainingly. He knew his mate wouldn't want anything to do with him until the morning. That was all right. He would watch over his mate until then and ensure his mate's safety.

Harry went into the nest and saw his and his mate's family in one of the rooms off the entryway. None of them made a move towards him but he hissed at them in warning anyway. He then traipsed through the nest to find the best spot. Eventually, he chose a room on the second floor and curled up in the middle of the floor to sleep.

**--Conception--**

Draco had followed his mate diligently, never more than five feet away. His mate eventually found an acceptable spot and curled up and fell asleep. He sat down a few feet away and settled in to watch, knowing that this was the time of conception.

Two hours after Harry fell asleep he let out a long cooing sound then chattered and sat up abruptly and looked around in alarm. When he saw his mate watching attentively he calmed and curled back up and went to sleep again. An hour later, the scene was repeated.

Draco couldn't contain a smug clicking sound. Already Harry had conceived two children. As the night wore on, Harry conceived again and again, and Draco became more and more pleased with himself. When dawn came Harry conceived for the final time. And Draco was fit to burst with pride. His mate had conceived the total possible of twelve children! Those children may or may not be born, but just the fact that they had been conceived was quite a feat. Very few x-males conceived all twelve children. It showed that the mating had been an exceptionally powerful one.

Harry finally woke two hours after dawn. He sat up, obviously uncomfortable, and saw Draco. He hissed, cranky from the aches throughout his body.

Draco gave an admonishing caw and Harry looked away in apology. Harry then chattered his discomfort and Draco cooed at him in forgiveness.

Draco opened his arms and beckoned his mate over to him. When his mate settled in next to him he started cooing comfortingly and doing his best to rub out the kinks in his mate's back and shoulders.

Harry simply melted under the tentative ministrations and started cooing his relief. Eventually, he felt better and shifted back into his human form. Draco did likewise and continued to rub Harry. Harry simply lay there and let the other take care of him.

"Would you like a bath?" Draco asked softly. "It will help with the soreness."

"What I want is a healing potion," Harry mumbled, not inclined to move away from Draco's hands.

"There are some in the bathroom," Draco said encouragingly.

Harry groaned. "Fine," he said and laboriously gained his feet. He watched as Draco rose then took his time looking over his mate's body.

"Well?" Draco asked in amusement.

Harry looked up then smirked. "You're more slender than I am," he said, sending his gaze to a particularly suggestive spot.

Draco snorted his surprised amusement then stepped forward and took Harry's hand. "Come on. Let's go bathe."

"Wait," Harry said and tugged on Draco's hand to make him stop and turn. "How many?"

Draco grinned widely. "All twelve."

Harry whooped and tried to drag Draco to the room's exit. "Let's tell everyone and celebrate!"

"Not without a bath!" Draco protested as he clung to Harry's hand and refused to move. "And certainly not without clothes!"

Harry looked surprised a moment then started laughing. "All right," he said then started dragging Draco to the bathroom.

Draco laughed as well at his exuberant mate and followed willingly.

**--Holidays--**

In the end, the announcement about the number of conceptions had proved unnecessary as everybody already knew; they'd both forgotten about the monitoring spells that had been cast on them. Still, prior knowledge did nothing to lessen the celebratory atmosphere. Then Hermione had tested Harry for the presence of bonds and their strength and found that Harry's link to Voldemort was, as hoped, gone. The celebration had reached a whole new level at that news, with more than just Harry weeping in relief and joy.

That night had also been full of celebration. Harry, or, rather, his friends, had come prepared and Harry set up the Rite of Acceptance. Rather than ask his new mate's parents (or great-grandparent in this case) into the circle to Accept his new family, as was tradition, Harry asked Pansy to join him to be Accepted as his adopted daughter. Pansy had accepted tearfully and more jubilation had ensued. It was at that point that Pansy truly knew that Harry wasn't going to try and force her out and away from Draco. Harry had then gifted his new daughter with her own trust fund and the knowledge that a respectable dowry had been set aside. More gifts had followed from Potter's friends and grandfather.

Draco had only nodded at the identity of the chaperone, having already figured out that the man was likely a relative. He knew they were still hiding something from him, however, as the man was wearing a glamour and introduced only as Robert. Draco had pointed out that, given the letter regarding social obligations he had received back in June, he was quite aware that Harry, and therefore Robert, was a member of the social elite of the Veela and why bother to continue to hide the man's identity? As he'd been promised full disclosure after school ended, he had shrugged and dropped the subject. Newly mated, he was feeling relaxed and generous.

The Acceptance of the "in-laws" had happened the next morning, with accompanying presents and jubilation, and the remaining days until Christmas spent in lazy indulgence and conversation. And countless decorating experiments. Draco was more glad than ever that he had decided not to furnish the house; Harry and Pansy were bonding quite nicely over furniture catalogs. Occasionally Chloe and Robert would join them and the four would wander off to one of the empty rooms and start spelling illusions about so as to see what various combinations would look like. The rest of the house's current inhabitants left them to it, only wandering by occasionally and offering opinions.

Then Christmas had come.

Breakfast had gone well. It wasn't until after more food than necessary had been eaten that things had taken a slight downward turn. Harry had fetched a box from his trunk and brought it back to the table. Luna Lovegood had given it to him the day before the mating, telling him that he should open his present right after Christmas breakfast. The girl still creeped him out and he was afraid to disobey her. So the box had been opened and the contents examined. Joy, fear, anger, relief, determination. All these emotions and more had been engendered by what had been found.

Luna had sent very detailed instructions on how to perform a blood-brother/sister ritual as well as all the necessary props and ingredients. The suggestion that he take his three friends as siblings was met with delight and excitement. It was the second suggestion that had cast a pall over the morning. Luna stated, in uncharacteristically direct and plain terms, that once the rituals were completed that Harry should tie his siblings to him with a blood-tether. Given what Dumbledore had tried to do to Harry, everyone was certain they understood why the suggestion was being made.

Despite their anger over what they presumed were Dumbledore's plans, all three rituals were done and duly celebrated. The tethers were cast as well then everyone had set aside their anger and pounced on the presents. Laughter and light-hearted teasing and conversation filled the remainder of the day, but a wariness was now instilled in the back of everyone's minds.

The day after Christmas had seen the departure of all the guests barring Pansy and Neville. Those two were going to use the time before New Year's to continue their courtship in person while they had the chance then leave to spend the remaining holidays with Neville's family. Draco and Harry gave teasing "fatherly" warnings then promptly took off for their own privacy.

Secrets were shared over the choosing of the master suite decorations. A large dark blue oriental rug was chosen and Draco admitted that he'd had several songbirds spy on Harry both in and out of Hogwarts. Harry laughed and said he'd already figured that out. The canopy bed and matching dressers were picked and Harry confided the truth about the baby bracelet. Once Draco had gotten over the shock of the disaster he might have caused, he became smug over the fact that Harry had mostly decided upon him anyway.Bedding was decided upon and Draco quietly talked about his childhood, his father, and his need to be a clone of the man due to the fear of what his father could do to him and the catastrophic results that might have on Pansy. Mirrors and paintings were selected and Harry took his turn relating his abysmal childhood and Dumbledore's actions.

They talked and talked about anything and everything. They also spent a goodly number of pleasant hours on exploring each other physically and pursuing that aspect of their new relationship. It was an enjoyable week and a half before they returned to Hogwarts.


	30. 2nd Term

I know, I know, I'm late. Really late. But, hey, I managed to get the chapter out today! I've excuses, of course… Anyway, tomorrow's might be late, too, since I'm just starting in on the final walkthrough _now_. This has been read by both betas, so hopefully no mistakes. Let me know if you catch anything.

I added a few things. I got a number of people saying they missed this or that. I wasn't exactly trying to rush the last chapter or three. I just thought (_wrongly,_ it seems) that everyone would be getting impatient for the mating and babies and that if I had added in all the little things I thought about that people would get bored. (shrug) I added some things here (part of why I'm late today) but with other things I think the opportunity has been missed to add them in a reasonable spot. Do still feel free to ask questions, though. There isn't much time left, but maybe a mention will be possible. If nothing else, I will add a Q&A at the end of the last chapter.

March is for all those who asked about Remus. I'm rather mean to him, but I hope that I've been mean to him in a realistic way.

PMs from Sakya and Zikarn Krais – I responded, but I used the e-mail address I got from fanfiction. So, if it's not current…well, let me know and I'll resend.

PMs from everyone else – I just realized a couple days ago that I was getting these (filters on the e-mail for "desperate" you see). I promise to read them and respond should it be appropriate.

_Cookies for taysh075_ whose review of chapter 9 inspired the bit about Ron.

_Cookies for StarsInHerHair_ for inspiration on additions in this chapter (so many kids not being on the agenda).

_Cookies for Lady PhoenixFyre_ who reminded me about addressing whether everyone will know if Draco is the mate.

_Cookies for Nagamoon_ for reminding me to address the affects of the broken bond on Voldemort.

_Cookies for __RRW_ for reminding me about the Weasleys and the fact that Harry doesn't actually hate them all, just Ron.

**Mpreg warning:** Mentions of Harry's pregnancy are peppered throughout this chapter. There's no serious talk about it, e.g. morning sickness, appointments, etc. So, yeah, I still think it's pretty mild. But read at your own risk and all that if the concept squicks you.

**Chapter 30 – 2nd Term**

--January 5--

Pansy entered Draco's rooms eager to share her newest information. She stopped short, though, at the site of Draco pacing agitatedly. She closed the door then took her customary seat on Draco's bed and watched for several minutes. When it appeared that Draco was too far gone in whatever was upsetting him to think clearly, she interrupted. "What is it?"

Draco glanced at Pansy but gave a short hysterical laugh and continued pacing.

"Draco?"

"Harry's pregnant," Draco said tightly and continued pacing.

Pansy sucked in a shocked breath. "That's…," she couldn't determine how to voice her mixture of congratulations and dismay.

Draco gave another short hysterical laugh. "Isn't it?"

"How did you find out?" Pansy asked after a pause. "It's awfully early. He can't have realized yet."

"Luna gave Harry a journal yesterday on the Express," Draco said as he ran a hand through his hair. "It was full of spells detailing how to hide and protect a pregnancy. We thought it might be a hint."

It was Pansy's turn to give a short hysterical laugh. "Good thought," she choked out. Luna was one very scary girl. Only Hermione Granger seemed to be able to handle the girl's shocking revelations with any kind of aplomb.

Draco nodded absently. "So we cast the detection spell so conveniently included on the first page of the journal and guess what?"

"Babies," Pansy answered softly.

"Babies," Draco confirmed. "This is….this is…"

Pansy opened her mouth then closed it and bit her lip. "Inconvenient," she eventually suggested.

Draco snorted and flopped into a chair. "What a good word," he said sardonically.

"I…well…this will give you a lot of status within Veela society," Pansy said hesitantly.

Draco stared in disbelief.

"A conception pregnancy, of a twinning mate, in wartime," Pansy elaborated. "It's really…"

"Do you think I _care_ about that?" Draco asked loudly. "I have enough status! We wanted to take a couple years to get settled before we started having children!"

"Well, it wasn't exactly your decision, now was it?" Pansy asked peevishly. She wasn't happy either; she wasn't pleased with the danger her new siblings were in just by virtue of being in Hogwarts and close to members of two warring factions.

Draco merely groaned and put his head in his hands.

"And, really, it's your own fault," Pansy accused. "If you hadn't proven yourself as such a good mate then this wouldn't have happened."

Draco snorted but couldn't argue the point. It was true that he'd done everything he could think of to show Harry that he would be protected and provided for. And now they were reaping the consequences. Draco dropped his hands and said with a sigh, "It's not that I'm unhappy about the babies."

"I know," Pansy said with her own sigh. "It's good news. Really. Congratulations. I'm looking forward to when they're born. May I be the godmother?"

Draco smiled slightly. "Sure. You and Neville can be this set's godparents."

"Thanks," Pansy said with a sincere smile.

They were both silent for several minutes as they thought through the consequences.

"Do you know if the babies are human or Veela?" Pansy asked.

Draco huffed another short laugh. "Veela, of course," he said. "We couldn't be lucky and have human boys that would take a full nine months to mature. No, we have to have Veela boys who will only take six. Veela biology is _not_ helping us right now. We figure his due date must be June 20, give or take."

"Twins are usually a couple weeks early," Pansy said softly.

"Don't remind me," Draco groaned. "We're hoping that he makes it all the way to the end of school. The graduation ceremony is the evening of the 19th, you know."

Pansy didn't say anything. They both knew the odds of the babies waiting that long were pretty slim. "He'll have to hide it," Pansy said firmly. "Or leave school."

"He doesn't want to leave school," Draco said as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "He wants to stay as long as possible."

"You could put your foot down," Pansy suggested.

Draco shrugged slightly. "I could, yes, and I know he would obey me. But I think he would always regret not finishing school. Plus, I think he wants to help protect his friends as much as he can and he can do that better by staying here. As much as I hate to say this, I think we'll be safe enough here unless Lovegood does…something."

Pansy nodded. "You're probably right. She seems to have an inordinate interest in Harry and helping him. So what are your plans? Where is this journal?"

"Harry kept it," Draco answered. "He and Granger are going to study the spells and cast them as soon as they can."

"You know, she _is_ technically your sister-in-law," Pansy said in amusement. "You should really call her by her given name."

Draco snorted. "Just as soon as she calls me Draco," he said.

Pansy laughed. Hermione had said something very similar about Draco. She wondered who would give in first.

--January 16--

"Ooh, Harry, there's a survey in _Teen Witch_ about who your mate is," Lavender said from her place at the table.

Harry stared at Lavender in surprise. "There is?"

Lavender and Parvati both nodded and giggled. Hermione rolled her eyes and mumbled under her breath. Neville shook his head and continued eating. Harry finally sighed in annoyance and resignation and asked, "How bad is it?"

"It's very nice," Lavender said. "Just write in your guess and send it in. If it's confirmed that you're right within the next year then you'll get a year's subscription for free!"

"Lovely," Harry said with a grimace.

"I suppose that's better than all the _Prophet_ articles," Neville said.

"I hate that paper," Harry said darkly.

"Well, maybe they'll stop now that you're suing them," Lavender said. "I'm glad you asked Liam to go after them. They deserve it."

"He did such a good job last year that I thought he'd like to have some more fun," Harry said with a vindictive smirk.

"It's about time you got some recompense from that paper," Neville said strongly. "I hope you own it by the time Liam is done with them."

"I'll be happy if they're just forbidden to ever write about me again," Harry said with a scowl. "I can't believe the headlines lately. So what if I don't want to reveal my mate? Every new article that comes out just proves my point that revealing him would be detrimental to his health. I mean, really, what was yesterday's? My mate was an exiled century-old half-vampire?"

"No, Harry, that was the day before yesterday," Hermione said.

"Whatever. It's just stupid," Harry said and stabbed a bite of pancake more forcefully than necessary.

"People are just disappointed," Lavender said. "They've been following the courtships and now they just want to know how they ended. They thought you would tell them who won. It's like not knowing the ending to a good book."

"It's none of their business," Harry hissed. "They should be glad I told them _anything_ instead of whining for more."

Lavender leaned over and patted Harry's clenched fist. "I know. Don't worry, Liam will take care of the paper and people will stop bothering you eventually."

Harry snorted in disbelief but went back to eating. He didn't think anyone would stop harassing him for his mate's identity. Dumbledore, especially, was interested. Harry had told the man to mind his own business but was sure that he wouldn't. Not that he would get anything out of Harry or his friends. Harry's guards had, with permission, spelled silent both Lavender and Neville. Hermione's entry into the Unspeakables protected her from revealing secrets she didn't want to reveal. And Harry was confident of keeping his own secrets against anything Dumbledore could pull.

Still, he kept a small charm with him at all times that he could activate to warn Draco should Draco's identity be revealed unexpectedly.

--February 7--

"What did you think you were doing?" Draco yelled, waving his arms about.

Harry winced at his mate's fury but kept his silence. Draco had every right to be furious.

"If you had been injured you would have been taken to Pomfrey and Merlin knows what could have happened then!" Draco continued heatedly. "What if she discovered the babies? What then?"

"I'm sorry," Harry said softly. "But I couldn't just refuse."

"Why not?" Draco demanded angrily.

"Everyone knows how much I like to fly," Harry answered. "What kind of suspicions would have been raised if I'd refused to play in a weekend pickup game?"

"That bludger almost knocked you off your broom!" Draco protested. "What if it had _hit_ you? What if it had hit your _belly_?"

Harry paled at the thought. "I just wanted to fly," he said miserably. "I haven't in so long."

Draco groaned and fell silent. He took several deep breaths and forced his panic back down. "I don't object to you flying," he said calmly. "I just object to you flying when there're great iron balls after your hide. No more quidditch."

"But if I stop, people will know something is up," Harry protested. "I don't want anybody getting suspicious; it would endanger all of us. I can't stop playing now that they've invited me."

"Then you will go home," Draco said flatly.

Harry looked up in shock then quickly looked away as he saw the implacable expression on Draco's face. He knew then that he would have to make a decision. He would either quit playing with the pickup team or he would go home; Draco would accept no other course of action. "I'll quit tomorrow," he said in resignation. "I don't want to go home yet."

Draco sighed and pulled Harry into an embrace. "Maybe you could tell them that you realized how much time it took away from your studying to catch up from last year," he suggested quietly. "That's a pretty reasonable excuse and shouldn't garner too many raised eyebrows."

"As long as I do study," Harry mumbled as he savored Draco's warmth.

"Get Granger to help you," Draco said. "She's sure to be able to pull off a convincing but-you-need-to-study-for-N.E.W.T.s speech."

Harry laughed and nodded. "I'll do that."

They stayed like that for several minutes before Draco pulled away and drew his wand. He cast a diagnostic spell to check on Harry's health.

"I already did that," Harry said. "Everything's fine." Draco merely glared at him and Harry shut up.

Draco cast several more spells they'd learned from Luna's gift journal before stowing his wand. "Your energy is running a little low," he said with a frown. "We should try to meet more often so I can help support you."

"Neville has offered to help me," Harry said tentatively.

Draco was quiet for several moments. "You will take him up on the offer," he said eventually.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. He was shocked that Draco would allow another to provide magical support. He knew that Draco respected Neville, but this was really personal.

"I understand that you want to stay here at Hogwarts and graduate," Draco said with a small grimace. "I wish you would reconsider but I _do_ realize that it's important to you. Nevertheless, whether we wanted it or not, you are pregnant and I will not risk the health of you or the babies. You will either go home so you can be tended to by family or you will get all the support you can while you remain here. And if that means Neville Longbottom, then so be it. He's going to be the godfather anyway, so a little more influence on the babies won't make that much difference."

Harry nodded. "Thank you," he said. He was glad that Draco was being so reasonable. He did want to graduate. It seemed a shame to get so far and have to quit with just months left before attaining his certificate.

"You talk to Granger and I'll talk to Pansy," Draco continued. "Maybe the girls can come up with a way for us to spend more time together so it's easier for you to draw on my magic."

"If anyone could, it would be them," Harry agreed. "They're scary together."

Draco chuckled. "That they are. I'm still waiting for an explanation as to just what happened to Granger to change her so drastically."

Harry just shrugged and gave a small smile. "Ask her."

"Maybe I will," Draco said then turned back to the matter at hand. "Do you think you will have any problems hiding Neville's assistance?"

Harry shook his head. "No. We often are in the dorm by ourselves. We'll just…hold hands or something while we're up there so I can draw on his magic."

Draco nodded. "Has your grandfather arranged a healer yet?" he asked abruptly.

"Yes," Harry said. "My first appointment is this Friday right after I leave to satisfy the tether."

"Who's it with?" Draco asked curiously.

Harry paused. "The healer that delivered my cousin's baby last year has agreed to take me as a patient."

Draco blinked. "Cousin?"

"You didn't think my grandfather was it, did you?" Harry asked in amusement.

Actually, he'd never thought about it. It made sense, though, that there were other relatives floating about. "I see. Who is it?"

Harry paused again. "I can't say."

Draco narrowed his eyes in annoyance. "This does not make me happy."

Harry grimaced and fidgeted but kept his silence.

"This has something to do with the full identity of your grandfather, doesn't it?" Draco asked sharply.

Harry nodded reluctantly.

Draco grit his teeth and sighed. "Fine. You'll tell me the results of your appointments."

Harry nodded again immediately.

"Make sure and ask the healer if you need to be on a special diet at all," Draco said. "I can have Bitzy make extras for you, if necessary, so that the Hogwarts house-elves don't have anything odd to report if anybody asks. Also, anything that the healer recommends, you will do. If there is something they want you to do that cannot be sufficiently hidden to ward off suspicion, you will go home."

Harry shifted nervously but nodded his compliance. Ever since they'd discovered his pregnancy, he knew he was lucky to be allowed to stay at Hogwarts. Better to agree to a few reasonable restrictions than risk being sent away.

Draco sighed again and pulled his mate into another embrace. "I just worry about you," he admitted softly.

"I know," Harry replied as he returned the embrace. "We're playing with fire by staying here so close to Dumbledore and Voldemort."

"Here's hoping we don't get burned," Draco murmured and held Harry tighter.

--February 21--

"It was nice of your guards to glamour themselves like us and walk around Hogsmeade so we could spend the day together," Draco murmured as he lay with Harry in a cozy bed in a room on the top floor of Madam Puddifoot's.

"They're good men," Harry murmured back.

They basked in each other's presence for another couple quiet minutes before Draco spoke again. "I can't wait to see the paper tomorrow. I bet no one expected you to still have guards after you mated."

Harry chuckled a little. "I bet you're right. What do you think the headlines will be? _Potter Hiding Behind Guards__!_ No, that's too tame."

"How about _Potter Mates to Chaperone – Proof Positive in Pictures Below!"_ Draco said dramatically.

"Eww, gross!" Harry said and sat up to glare down at his mate with a disgusted look on his face.

Draco merely grinned and cupped his hands behind his head. "You have to admit it would be more their style."

Harry grimaced but nodded. "True. I can't wait for Liam to nail them to the wall."

Draco freed an arm and stroked Harry's knee. "Pretty soon," he said comfortingly.

"You're sure you don't mind waiting to reveal your identity?" Harry asked abruptly.

"No," Draco said emphatically. "You know it's the only way we can all finish school in relative peace. We've talked about this."

"I know," Harry said with a nod. He gave a teasing smile then and said, "But I know how much you like to brag."

Draco sat up quickly and grabbed Harry then twisted them as he fell back so that Harry was now lying beneath him. "Are you taunting me again, my mate?" Draco asked with fake supercilious expression.

Harry laughed then pushed Draco up and over so that the blond was now on the bottom. Harry waggled his eyebrows comically and said, "I would never."

Draco just chuckled and caressed Harry's arms. Harry's assertiveness in bed surprised Draco sometimes. He didn't mind, in fact he rather liked it, but he did find it a bit odd. All submissive Veelas were quite fierce when it came to protecting themselves or their family – that was the hawk influence – but otherwise were generally more content with taking a more, well, submissive, role. He'd never expected Harry to be compliant, however, and was rather pleased with the added spice of Harry's boldness. Still, it was odd.

"What are you thinking about?" Harry asked curiously of Draco's bemused expression.

Draco shook his head slightly and smiled. "Just how much I'm glad I won your affections," he said.

Harry grinned his pleasure. "So, have you thought of names?"

"Names?" Draco asked blankly.

"For the babies," Harry said with a roll of his eyes.

Draco smiled and ran a hand briefly across Harry's belly. "I'd like to follow the Malfoy tradition of Roman names, if you don't mind."

Harry shrugged. "All right. I don't really have a preference. I think the Potters used British king names and I don't really want to do that."

"Then how about…Caesar?" Draco asked.

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "That's a title, anyway, isn't it?"

Draco shrugged. "Aemilius?"

"That sounds like a girl's name," Harry said doubtfully.

"Well, how about…"

--March 6--

"Fred, George, I'm glad you could make it," Harry said with a grin.

The twins grinned back. "Glad to come!" they both chimed in unison.

Harry chuckled. "I've missed you," he said. He approached George and tentatively held out a hand. He sighed in relief when George's magic didn't bother him and again when Fred's didn't either. It wasn't as bad as it had been when he'd been dating, but because of what he'd had to do he would always be more sensitive to other's magic.

"So what can we do for you this fine evening?" Fred said expansively as he took a seat in one of the upholstered chairs. Given they were upstairs in Madam Puddifoot's, he was surprised the thing wasn't covered in frilly lace.

Harry glanced out the window then back to Fred with a disbelieving look. "It's raining."

George snickered and took another surprisingly non-frilly chair. "But we're meeting you. How can it not be fine?"

Harry rolled his eyes but smiled at his friends. "Well, you won't think it fine after I tell you what I have to tell you," he said.

The twins glanced at each other then looked back at Harry. "And what do you have to tell us?" George asked.

Harry picked up a small rolled parchment from off the coffee table, ignoring the book that was also there. "This," he said. "It's actually sort of illegal for me to give this to you, but, well, I don't really care. I think you deserve it."

"Well, now, illegal you say? Our curiosity's piqued, isn't it, Fred?" George said brightly and took the scroll and began unrolling it. A minute later George passed the scroll to his brother and sat back in his chair, silent.

Fred looked worriedly at his brother and friend, but also read the scroll. When he was done reading, Fred rolled up the parchment and put it back on the coffee table next to the book.

"I think you can figure out most of it, like I did," Harry said softly.

"Why is it illegal?" George asked thoughtfully, delaying the heavier conversation for a bit.

Harry shrugged. "The law says a prophecy is the property of the one to whom it is spoken. Only they are legally allowed to share it. Supposedly, it has something to do with screwing things up if everybody knows. I don't know if I agree with that. I _do_ think that as its subject, I should get equal say as to who knows it and I want you to know it."

"It seems pretty dire," George said with a grimace. "Why not publish it and let everybody know?"

"I thought about that," Harry admitted. "I really did. I was advised not to, however, because, well…"

"If there are no wizards in Britain to attack, You-Know-Who will just go elsewhere," Fred said thoughtfully. "That's it, isn't it? Better to contain the destruction to just one country than all over the world."

"I…yes," Harry said miserably. "In a way, it's like Dumbledore and his greater good, which I hate. At least I'm not completely like him. _I'm_ not sitting back and doing nothing while I wait for someone else to do something."

"What are you doing? Besides leaving?" George asked seriously.

"Just planning at the moment," Harry said with a grimace. "I have to wait for a while until the people I need are available. Unfortunately, that's not going to be for several years."

"What do you need from us?" Fred asked.

"Watch out for your family," Harry said immediately. "Maybe get the Burrow under the fidelius, or at least really heavy wards. I don't think you'd be able to convince anybody to leave, even if you show them the prophecy. Your family seems pretty dedicated to fighting Voldemort."

The twins shared a look and nodded. "All right," Fred agreed.

"I know you're, uh, Unspeakables," Harry said uncomfortably, knowing that that wasn't exactly true. "And before you worry about a spy, I know the head of the Unspeakables and they told me. I know that you're assigned to potions and spell-crafting right now, too. I just want to say, well, Voldemort may be bringing destruction, but nothing says that you can't give him a rough time of it."

"You want us to prank the Death Eaters?" George asked with smirk.

"Yes," Harry said firmly and watched in satisfaction as the twins eyes widened. He gestured to the book that was on the coffee table. "That's a copy of Sirius' journals. His Marauder name was Padfoot."

"Padfoot!" the twins exclaimed.

"There's a lot of personal stuff in there," Harry said, ignoring the outburst. "I'd prefer if you kept the stuff about me confidential. It's also a bit scattered because his mind was really affected by Azkaban. But there's a lot, and I do mean a _lot_, of information in there about pranks. Some of them are really mean and nasty, too. I thought you could use it for inspiration."

"Harry…" Fred started.

"I thought that you could name whatever you end up using on the Death Eaters after him," Harry said. "I was thinking "Sirius Setbacks" would be funny. He'd have liked it."

Fred and George grinned, and it wasn't nicely. "Consider a new line of products born."

--March 22--

"Well, hello, Lupin. Fancy seeing you here at a time like this," Harry said coolly as he stared at the one man he had grown to hate just that little bit less than Voldemort and just as much as Pettigrew. Dumbledore had any number of semi-reasonable excuses for his actions and so while Harry pitied the old headmaster, he didn't hate him. But this man… Oh, yes, he hated this man. It had been so hard to be civil once he'd learned of Lupin's betrayal. Now, though, he no longer needed to hide his feelings. He had only agreed to the meeting so as to attempt to make some kind of peace with himself before he left Britain forever.

"Hello, Harry," Remus said softly, confused at the boy's demeanor. "How have you been?"

"Fine," Harry said, not bothering to reciprocate the pleasantries.

Remus paused for a moment. "How's school?"

"Fine," Harry said again. "No more Potions and Snape is still avoiding me. Smart of him, really. Sinistra has been perfectly happy to help me catch up in Astronomy. The same for Sprout and herbology. I'm studying history on my own and should pass the N.E.W.T. McGonagall is still mad over me skipping a year of school but can't deny that I'm able to keep up and Flitwick is as enthusiastic as ever."

"You're only taking five subjects?" Remus asked. "That's the minimum."

"I know that," Harry said irritably. "I want to graduate, but I don't have the time to catch up in a lot of subjects. I _did_ miss a year of school, you know, and wasn't too attentive during first term, either. Or were you unaware?"

"I was told," Remus said hesitantly, still puzzled as to why Harry seemed angry. "Is that why you dropped Defense?"

"That and the fact that I couldn't trust the headmaster to find a decent teacher," Harry said. "From what I'm hearing about Botts, I was right to drop it."

"I thought you wanted to become an auror," Remus said. "Are you going to study Potions and Defense once you graduate?"

"Why don't you just tell me why you're here, Lupin," Harry said sharply, getting tired of the meaningless conversation. "Maybe to talk about Voldemort's attacks?"

"Not specifically," Remus said mildly. "I am curious what you think of them, though."

"Of course you are," Harry said with a snort. Lupin was a horrible liar. "Just so we don't have to beat around any bushes, I'll tell you. It's a shame, of course, that so many people are dead, and in such high places, too. What was the count? Five hundred or so, wasn't it?"

"You don't sound like you think it's much of a shame," Remus said, both in confusion and worry. Why was Harry so antagonistic? He'd been told that now that Harry was mated, he shouldn't be so agitated.

"I also think Voldemort must have a new General; a man, or woman, with quite a bit of a brain, too," Harry said with vague admiration. "My guess, even before that awful paper started rumors, was that every last muggle in a position of power that knew of the magical world was eliminated in that one month murder spree. It's bound to make things more complicated later on, not even counting the havoc it's causing right now."

"Harry…"

"So are you here to guilt me, Lupin?" Harry asked with cool contempt. "To tell me that if I wasn't so rebellious that all those people might not have died? Do spare me."

Remus paused. "They weren't you fault, Harry," he said softly.

"Of course they weren't," Harry said with a huff. "I bet it would take me less than an hour to find a dozen people that disagree, though, and without even leaving this school. After all, didn't the _Prophet_ say that this was a result of Voldemort's anger over not revealing the identity of my mate? I don't think they're right, but I wouldn't discount the possibility given Voldemort's overall lack of sanity. Personally, I think it's more likely because I gave Voldemort a horrible month-long migraine when I bonded with my mate, but when has the Order ever listened to my opinion?"

"Harry…" Remus paused, uncertain what to say, then tried again, "You seem angry with me."

"No, no, no," Harry said condescendingly. "I'm _way_ beyond merely _angry_ with you."

"But…why?" Remus asked in confusion. "I can't recall having done anything."

Harry laughed mirthlessly. "And _that_ would be why, my dear, dear _executor_," Harry spat sharply.

Remus paled.

"Did you think I would never find out?" Harry asked scornfully. "It was one of my cornerstones of hope, you know, growing up in that hateful house. As soon as I understood the concept of wills, which was actually pretty young due to a neighbor's death, I always imagined that my parents never had one. I just knew they loved me and would _never, ever, ever_ have wanted me to grow up there so they must not have had one and I was placed with the nearest relative per convention. _Do_ imagine my surprise."

"How… Where…did you see it?" Remus asked. This was bad. If Harry knew the full text of his parents' wills then, well, he didn't know, but it could be nothing but bad.

"Sirius gave me a lot of things," Harry said coldly. "I'm sure you're aware that it was from my mother's journals that I learned of my heritage."

Remus nodded. "Yes," he admitted softly. "I was shown your interviews recently."

Harry snorted at how out-of-date the man was but didn't comment. "Well, I got Dad's journals, too. He didn't write as much, though. Only a few times were there more than half a dozen entries in an entire month."

"That must have been interesting," Remus said, trying to be encouraging.

"I got several heirlooms, too," Harry continued without response. "Nothing of importance burned with the house."

"I'm glad to hear that," Remus said in surprise. He'd thought, as had everyone, that all had been lost.

"And the last thing he gave me was a nice, neat, bundled package of legal papers," Harry finished. "The wills weren't the only things there, but they were the most…interesting."

Remus closed his eyes in defeat. He was well aware of what was in the wills and knew he would never be forgiven.

"Did you know that I was never supposed to go to the Dursley's? Oh, wait, of course you knew, you were the _executor,_" Harry said spitefully. "Let's forget about the dozen different bequeaths that are _still_ unprocessed and just focus on me. You know, as soon as I read the list of names of the people who I was _supposed_ to go to – and most of them are alive even now, I've checked – I really, really hated Dumbledore. I thought he had used his position to bypass my parents' wills. But then I read the signatures and guess what I found?"

"Me," Remus said with sorrow and regret.

"You," Harry ground out. "The nice, sensible, good friend of my parents who gave me so much help. I practically idolized you, you know. The betrayal was more than I could handle. And Dumbledore thinks I wreaked havoc in his office? That was _nothing_ compared to my reaction when I found out what you had done. Or, more accurately, _didn't_ do."

Harry remembered when he'd been told. He'd given the whole stack of legal papers sight unseen to his grandfather to sort and review one morning and so had no idea why the man was so grim that evening. His grandfather had taken him to a safe-room, told him the highlights, and then told him to feel free to destroy everything in the room – that's what it was for. And he had. Nothing had been left when he was through venting his anger; the very wards had had to be redone from the strength of his magic's assault.

"I'm sorry," Remus said helplessly.

"That will never be good enough, Lupin," Harry said with quiet intensity. "Dumbledore left me with people he should never have and put his faith in some stupid wards. But you? You could have prevented that. You could have presented the will to be executed and I would have been moved to a better environment. Dumbledore might not have liked it, but I don't actually think he would have prevented it. Voldemort and Pettigrew cost me my parents. Dumbledore, through his laziness, cost me my extended family. But it was you who sentenced me to Hell."

Remus put his head in his hands and didn't say anything. There really wasn't anything to say.

"Instead of fulfilling your responsibilities – _important_ responsibilities, too, not like ditching your agreement to walk the neighbor's dog or something – you ran away," Harry continued relentlessly. "You were missing for a dozen years! After Sirius died I was completely unsurprised when you ran away yet again. Honestly, I didn't expect to hear from you for another dozen years. Precedent, you know. I was shocked when Dumbledore asked me to meet you."

"I'm sorry," Remus said again, knowing it meant little.

"And it only gets worse," Harry said with sarcastic cheerfulness. "You knew my mother wasn't her father's child. You could smell it. You confronted my mother about it, even."

"She told me to mind my own business," Remus mumbled, head still down.

"And so you should have," Harry agreed. "To a point. I know you knew about the blood wards and how much importance Dumbledore placed on them. But you also knew how unhappy I was and what a complete and utter disgrace Petunia was, is, whatever. You should have spoken up, revealed your knowledge that my mother might have other family through her real father. I do forgive you for not knowing she was a Veela; I know you weren't told and I'm sure you weren't familiar with their scent when you were in school, if you are even now."

Remus nodded. "You don't smell of anything. Did you hide your scent?"

Harry snorted. "So like you to completely avoid the items of _real_ importance, but, yes, I've hidden my scent. I've no interest in revealing my mate's identity at this time," he said, leaving out that the primary reason was that he didn't want anyone scenting the fact that he was pregnant.

"So this is it," Remus said miserably. He was a coward and he knew it. How he'd actually gotten into Gryffindor was anybody's guess. He knew he'd be leaving tonight for…anywhere. Running again. It probably would be a dozen years before he returned, just as Harry had said.

"Yes, Lupin, this is it," Harry replied, a small amount of pity entering his voice. "I've no interest in meeting you again. I likely will never forgive you, though I'm told it's good for the soul. And tell Dumbledore that guilt trips no longer work on me."

Harry watched as Remus slowly stood and shuffled off, the absolute picture of dejection. He hadn't told the man about the journals he'd received from Sirius after his death. Sirius had written nothing during school but had more than made up for lost time once he was cooped up at Grimmauld Place. One of the things revealed in those journals was that Sirius, despite what he'd told everyone, had never forgiven _anyone,_ and _especially_ not Lupin, for having ended up in prison – he was merely keeping up appearances so that he could have as much contact as possible with his godson. Harry kept his silence even as Lupin reached the door. He couldn't forgive, but he would give the man this one mercy of ignorance.

--April 4--

Harry stared at Ron, completely and utterly speechless.

He wasn't the only one.

"Well?" Ron said impatiently.

Harry opened his mouth, closed it, opened it, closed it again. What to say? What to _think,_ for all that.

"You…Are you serious?" Neville asked, still too stunned for his utter disbelief to actually shine through into his tone.

"Of course," Ron said indignantly.

"You'll forgive us for being surprised, I hope," Hermione said slowly. "This is a bit…" She paused. What _was_ it exactly? "Sudden," she finished lamely.

"Sure," Ron said, nodding his understanding. He was apparently oblivious to the continued looks of shock and disbelief that surrounded him.

"I…," Harry started only to stop, still unable to put together a coherent thought.

"Really, mate, I'm sorry for everything," Ron said. And he did look apologetic.

"Merlin," Ginny whispered as she recognized her brother's mistake.

Hermione sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

Neville closed his eyes and shook his head.

Several other eavesdroppers winced at Ron's ill-chosen word.

Harry abruptly lost his stupefaction at Ron's earlier apology. He slowly rose and glared at Ron coldly. "You're _sorry_?" he asked softly.

"Uh, yeah, mate," Ron said uncertainly.

"Don't you call me that," Harry said, his voice still soft. "You are not my mate and do not have the right."

"Oh, right, sorry," Ron said and shifted back a bit from the unnerving sight of a calmly enraged Harry Potter.

"How dare you stand there and ask for forgiveness? After everything you've said, how dare you?" Harry asked, not raising his voice.

"I know I've been a prat," Ron said irritably. "That's why I'm apologizing."

"A prat?" Harry repeated dangerously. "Oh, no, Ron, you haven't been a prat. That implies behavior that's forgivable. What you have been is a complete, unremitting bastard."

"Hey, now…," Ron started to protest.

"You were the first one to start insulting me and the last one to stop," Harry said, overriding his former friend. "Other than that stupid Hufflepuff, who I still don't know the name of, you were the single most offensive person in this castle."

"I said I'm sorry!" Ron said angrily.

"You ignored me when I needed my friends and insulted me when I needed support," Harry continued. "You snubbed me to my face and started rumors behind my back."

"Look, I know I was wrong!" Ron said plaintively. "I want to be friends again. I miss my best mate."

"Don't you call me that," Harry said again, his voice still calmly furious. "You came back from Christmas holidays last year and spent ten minutes screaming at me about how I was corrupting your family because your brothers had entered the courtships, completely disregarding that three of them had already been eliminated. And when we came back for seventh year you spent another ten minutes complaining that I'd eliminated the last, accusing me of believing your family wasn't good enough. What? Couldn't make up your mind?"

"I had some good talks with Bill and Charlie recently," Ron admitted with an embarrassed shrug. "I understand things better now."

"You understand things better now," Harry repeated, his still soft voice carrying to every corner of the otherwise utterly silent common room. "With a little bit of effort you could have understood things better a year and a half ago."

"I'm sorry! What more do you want me to say?" Ron asked, getting angry at Harry's continued detailing of sore points.

"Nothing," Harry said coldly. "I don't want you to say anything. I want you to stay away from me."

Ron gaped in astonishment for several moments before he protested indignantly, "What! That's not fair! I apologized!"

"Actions speak louder than words, Ron," Harry said with a disgusted look. "Your actions for the last _year and a half_ cannot be offset by a simple apology. I do not forgive you."

"But…but…you have to," Ron sputtered.

"No, I don't. I don't have to do anything," Harry said softly and turned to leave. "Take that back to your master," he muttered, though no one heard him. As he walked away, ignoring the ruckus behind him, he wondered what Dumbledore would try next to encourage him to stay and fight.

--April 19--

"He's finally tried something," Harry said as he lay against Draco on their standard cushy couch in the Room of Requirement. "That's why Lavender's here today when she usually isn't."

"What did he do?" Draco asked as he glanced at the three girls huddled together about ten feet away. Greg and Vin were farther off working on…something. Neville was absent from today's gathering.

"Some spell. She got hit with it in an empty hallway so we're not absolutely certain it was cast by Dumbledore, but we think it probably was," Harry said. "Hermione and Pansy will find out and fix it. And if they can't fix it, they'll teach me how to fix it."

"You could overcome Dumbledore's spells?" Draco asked in surprise.

Harry snorted and turned to stare at his mate in annoyance. "Don't tell me you buy into all that "Greatest and Most Powerful Wizard" propaganda."

"Pardon?" Draco said in surprise.

Harry snorted again as he turned back around and got comfortable once more. "I don't see _him_ falling flat on his arse every time he takes a portkey. Maybe his power has lessened over the years. Hermione says that happens sometimes. All I know is that right now I'm more powerful than him and if they need power to break the spell he put on Lavender then I'll give it to them."

"Well…good," Draco said uncertainly. What was there to say? He hugged his mate and placed a light kiss on the nearby ear.

Harry relaxed slightly and sighed. "I'm worried about her," he confessed softly. "Dumbledore's been around a long time, long enough to know some pretty esoteric and/or rare spells. What if the girls don't figure it out?"

"Then we'll send her to a curse-breaker," Draco said firmly. "And another and another until we find out what he did."

"What if it can't be reversed?" Harry asked worriedly. "What if…"

"Harry!" Draco said sharply and squeezed his mate slightly. "For one, dark spells are the ones most likely to be irreversible. I don't think that Dumbledore really dabbles in dark magic, do you?"

"Well, no," Harry admitted.

"And, two, whatever he did to _her_ was probably meant to be used against _you_," Draco said. "Therefore, whatever he cast was meant to be reversed once you started being a good little boy again."

"He would hold it over me, wouldn't he?" Harry mused.

"Of course he would," Draco said. "So stop worrying."

"Plus, Luna didn't say anything and I think she would have," Harry said thoughtfully.

Draco grimaced. "True."

"So, what do you think of putting up a privacy shield?" Harry asked, turning his head to give Draco a suggestive look.

Draco raised an eyebrow at the complete change in topic but obligingly pulled out his wand and cast a few spells.

--May 16--

"What are you doing, Harry?" Lavender asked curiously.

Harry looked up from his curled up position on the common room couch. "I'm re-reading the letters from my mate," he said with a smile.

"The ones that came by Nichol?" Lavender asked as she sat down next to Harry. She was polite and didn't try to peer at the letter.

"Yes," Harry said then flushed slightly. "I miss him and this was the next best thing." Nearly five months of only occasional meetings was really starting to take its toll on his patience.

Lavender smiled kindly. "It must be hard to work on your relationship when you don't get to see each other."

"Very hard," Harry agreed with a small, frustrated laugh. "I'm sure you understand perfectly, what with being away from Liam."

Lavender nodded. "How many letters do you have?" she asked, tilting her head to peer at the box that was beside her friend.

"Well, there's forty-one from before and seventy-one from after," Harry said, gesturing to the letters in front of and behind the divider in the box.

"After?" Lavender asked in confusion. Her face cleared just a moment later. "Oh! _After_."

Harry chuckled. "Exactly," he said.

"What did he say? You know, then," Lavender asked curiously.

Harry gave a small shrug and smile. "It was actually pretty funny," he said. "Oh, the letter was nice. He managed to make all his arguments convincing without being begging. I was impressed. But it was amusing to read because I already knew. He talked a lot about," he paused and leaned in to whisper, "his father and how he had to act and why."

"Because of _her_, right?" Lavender whispered back. "He told you about her?"

Harry sat back and nodded. "All about it," he confirmed in a normal tone. "It was a bit of shock, I'll tell you. I got over it, though, and I think, had I really needed convincing, that that one incident would have done it."

"It's a good one," Lavender agreed.

"Well, that and all the chocolate," Harry said with a smirk. "I was there for thirty days and I had a new box of chocolates every day. Do you know how many international cards I got while I was in Mycenae? Almost a thousand!"

Lavender giggled. "Shouldn't you have gotten over a thousand? That's fifteen hundred chocolates you had."

"Well, I kept some," Harry said. "A couple hundred for the two sets I made. And the rest, well, some people drove some hard bargains and I had to trade _two_ cards for one."

Lavender giggled again.

"You didn't really come to ask about my letters, did you?" Harry asked quietly as he leaned forward.

Lavender's face became unusually solemn as she shook her head. "No. You think… you're _sure_?" she asked quietly, a bit of her prior hysteria slipping in

"I'm _sure_," Harry confirmed emphatically, if just as quietly. "As soon as _you know what_ happens, then I'll pull it off you. _He_ doesn't want me to use so much power right now because of…you know."

Lavender nodded. "He's right," she said softly. "It could hurt…them. I'm just…"

"Worried," Harry finished softly and clasped one of his friend's hands. "Well, don't. Hermione says as long as the sterility curse is on you less than a year that it won't harm your chances of conceiving once it's off. Just think of it as, uh, extra-special birth control. That's what it used to be used for anyway."

"I know," Lavender said and fluttered her free hand. "I just…I don't know."

"You know she's never wrong about these things," Harry said with a snort.

Lavender giggled, though it was slightly strained. "That's true," she said. "What about Neville?"

"He's already on the cleansing regimen to get that potion out of his system," Harry said. "It'll be gone by the time school's out. It's annoying, but not dangerous."

"Thank Merlin for Hermione," Lavender said with a sigh.

Harry squeezed Lavender's hand then released it. "Definitely," he said. "No one better to research old stuff."

Lavender giggled again. She scooted a little closer to Harry and leaned her head in to whisper conspiratorially. "Now, tell me more about him. I want to know some juicy stuff!"

Harry grinned and whispered back, "Did I tell you he's got a real sensitive neck?"

--May 31--

Draco was lying comfortably against some pillows on their regular couch in the Room of Requirement. Harry was lying against him and napping. Just a month away from his due date, he often got tired and enjoyed an afternoon nap as often as he could arrange them without raising suspicion. He turned his gaze from Harry to the Room's other occupants.

Greg and Vin were off together working on mastering a new spell. Draco didn't know what it was and didn't really care either. It had been quite the shock to him last summer to find out that his two friends were actually bound to him through vassal oaths as his bodyguards. It had been even more of a shock when he found out that he wouldn't have been told about those oaths until he graduated Hogwarts. The only reason he _had_ been told was because he'd needed Greg's and Vin's help to keep from attacking Harry through the months of teasing. Once he hadn't had to hide his activities from them, they had become even closer friends. He'd been promised the rest of the story this summer.

Pansy and Neville were also off together. They, however, were doing something much more domestic: looking through catalogs. The two of them looked how he imagined he and Harry had looked over Christmas holidays when they had done the same thing. Pansy and Neville had written dozens of letters to each other from the time of their betrothal until Christmas. He didn't know what was in those letters, but he knew that they had shared a great deal of themselves and their time together at Christmas had brought them quite close. These clandestine meetings were just as much for Pansy and Neville, when they could make it, as they were for Harry and himself. He was immensely pleased that Pansy was so happy with her choice of future husband.

The last person with them, Hermione Granger, was flipping through what looked to him like reports. Given what he now knew about her occupation, he thought they probably were. He was still shocked that she was the leader of the Unspeakables. There was more to that story, too, he'd been told. It was another tale he'd been promised this coming summer. At least he knew why she had changed so much.

They still had another half hour of their illicit gathering when the door to the Room opened. The door that should have been sealed until they were ready to leave. Five wands were immediately trained on the door. A sixth one joined them soon after – Draco _did_ have an armful of mate, after all.

Luna stepped into the room and closed the door. She smiled enigmatically, apparently completely unconcerned with all the wands pointed at her, and said, simply, "Hello."

Hermione sighed and shook her head as she put away her wand. "Hello, Luna," she said in exasperation. "What can we do for you today?" She waved the others to stand down.

Luna stood in place and watched as Harry finished waking from the jostling of Draco's sudden movement. "Hello, Harry."

Harry gave the blonde girl a wary look as he replied, "Hello, Luna."

"Do you want to know why there are twelve?" Luna said dreamily as she finally walked forward towards the group.

"Twelve what, Luna?" Hermione asked with practiced patience. Of course, her own seers had nothing on Luna.

"Three is for all that is heaven," Luna said as she knelt before the coffee table that held Hermione's stacks of papers. "Four is for all that is earth. When they multiply together they make all that is possible in heaven and earth. Completeness. That is why there are twelve."

Everyone watched silently as Luna put down her schoolbag and starting pulling out what were obviously wrapped presents. There were six medium-sized gift boxes on the short table before anyone spoke.

"Twelve muggle-borns each year?" Harry asked eventually. "Is that what you mean?"

"That, too," Luna said unconcernedly as she pulled out more boxes.

"Twelve possible fertilized eggs," Draco said, not understanding the reference to muggle-borns. He was pretty sure there wasn't a single class at Hogwarts right now that had twelve muggle-borns.

"That, too," Luna said as she calmly closed her schoolbag. There were now twelve wrapped presents on the table. She turned her head and locked gazes with Draco. "You shall join the few to sire twelve."

Everybody other than Luna drew in a surprised breath. It was common enough to conceive all twelve possible babies during the initial mating, but birthing them? No. That happened perhaps once every hundred years. Even Harry and Draco had thought they'd only have eight – seven sons to satisfy Fate plus another child that they hoped would be a girl, since Harry would always twin. Nobody disbelieved the girl, though.

Luna turned her gaze to Harry. "Hell comes," she said softly. "Hell comes. Death and destruction."

"Luna…" Harry started then closed his mouth and shivered as the girl's eyes rolled into the back of her head.

"_The one touched by fate shall leave one mother for another…__  
And bear children in completeness under the aegis of the hawks…  
Muses nine, mother, father, and leader__ shall claim a child each…"_

"_A son for Melpomene to perform the great tragedies…  
A son for Thalia to write of the lands…  
A son for Clio to see into the past…  
A son for Urania to search the stars…  
A son for Calliope to speak of heroes…  
A son for Terpsichore to dance in joy…  
A son for Zeus the father to be King of his people…  
A daughter for Erato to inspire love…  
A daughter for Mnemosyne the mother to remember the present…  
A daughter for Apollo the leader to know the future…  
A daughter for Euterpe to compose songs…  
A daughter for Polymnia to sing to the heavens…"_

"_Adored shall be the Chosen One…  
Revered shall be the Mate…  
And successful shall be the children…  
As a new era dawns…"_

Luna blinked several times and her eyes came down and into focus. She smiled dreamily, not noticing, or perhaps not choosing to notice, the others gaping at her. "We won't see each other for a long, long time, Harry. These are for the babies."

Luna rose then and leaned down to kiss Harry once on each cheek then left without another word.

"Well…seems your children are going to revitalize the Veela arts," Pansy said wanly.

Harry made a strangled sound and clung to Draco. Draco clung back just as tightly and did his desperate best to control his breathing; now would not be a good time to freak out.

Hermione cleared her throat and opened her mouth then snapped it shut and pinched the bridge of her nose. Damn it but seers drove her nuts. "Congratulations," she said eventually.

Harry and Draco weren't the only ones to release bouts of hysterical laughter.

--June 10--

The day of June 10th came like any other. Harry dragged himself out of bed with the help of Neville and went down to breakfast. He ate. He took that morning's test. He went to lunch and loaded his plate. He started eating, then stopped after a couple bites and simply picked at his food.

The people around him were irritating him this afternoon. They weren't doing or saying anything offensive, but they were aggravating him anyway. He wished school was over and he was back home with Draco.

Somebody touched him and he turned and hissed at them, not caring when he realized it was Ginny. Ginny withdrew quickly and Harry returned to fiddling with his lunch, completely ignoring the stuttered apology. He also ignored the subsequent speculation about what was wrong with him this afternoon. In fact, he ignored everybody. He grimaced and put his arm over his belly. The babies were definitely giving him problems today.

Neville watched his friend suspiciously. This…didn't look good.

Lunch was mostly over and they were leaving the table when somebody, quite innocently, bumped into Harry. Harry hissed again. The nearby students quieted and eyed Harry warily. Then, for no apparent reason, Harry shifted form and shrieked.

"Merlin," Neville swore then yelled, "Malfoy! Get over here!" He might have been able to approach Harry in Veela form before, but if Harry was just about ready to lay…well, he'd better not if he wanted to keep those claws from ripping him apart.

Draco heard the call and knew that Neville would never have done so if Harry wasn't ready to lay. Time would be of the essence right now and they couldn't afford to be circumspect about getting Harry out of Hogwarts. They would have less than an hour before the chicks came. Thank Merlin Veela weren't completely like birds or else they'd have minutes at most.

Another loud screech was heard and Draco immediately rose to his feet and raced to the other end of the hall, pushing people out of his way as necessary and ignoring the subsequent commotion engendered by his actions. He made it to Harry's side just as Harry let out another shriek. Draco reached for his mate but Harry was having none of it and turned to swipe his claws across the offending party who dared approach him.

Unfortunately for Harry, Draco was ready for him. Draco twisted away then shifted to his own bird form and grabbed Harry's wrist on its way past and pulled Harry to him back to chest. Harry let out a furious screech at being captured and struggled against Draco's hold. Draco started cooing in an effort to calm Harry as much as possible.

There were a lot of exclamations about just what was going on and people were starting to gather to watch the scene. Neville got fed up with everybody and sent a blast of sparks through his wand and said loudly, "Get back! Are you all stupid?" He then turned his head slightly and said over his shoulder, "Come on, Malfoy, I'll help you to the door."

Draco dragged his angrily twittering mate towards the entrance of the Great Hall, trusting Neville, and now the rest of their friends, to protect them as they left. Harry chattered in agitation before letting loose another screech. Draco continued to coo.

Minerva McGonagall made her way through the massed students until she was close to the scene. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded.

"Harry's in labor and needs to leave," Neville said grimly. "That's the meaning of this. His mate will take him somewhere safe to birth the chicks. Now everybody stay back! You're bothering Harry." The party of eight continued to move back steadily towards the entranceway.

The headmaster finished pushing through the student crowd and joined McGonagall. "If that is indeed the case, then Madame Pomfrey can tend to him," he said.

Both Harry and Draco screeched in fury at that and Neville said, "That's not going to happen, Headmaster. For one, Harry doesn't trust Pomfrey and I doubt she's even qualified to assist in Veela births. For another, Draco has arranged a safe place for Harry to birth the chicks and that is where we are going."

The headmaster waved his wand and the doors to the Great Hall closed. "It's obvious that Mr. Potter is having difficulties," he said sternly. "Taking him away from competent medical help will most certainly be detrimental to his health. You will take him to Madame Pomfrey."

Two fireballs flew from Harry and Draco and impacted the shield the headmaster erected in barely enough time. Three repelling jinxes were sent immediately after and the headmaster, his shield only protecting against magical fire, went flying into the congregated students. There were cries of fear and surprise, not to mention a few screams.

Neville set off more sparks and a loud bang from his wand. "Shut up! Are you all idiots?" He turned to Minerva, "Harry is not staying here. Now either open the doors, or we will do it for you."

Minerva opened the doors, seeing no other choice that wouldn't endanger the students, and everybody watched as Harry was dragged through the entranceway, still chattering angrily. "Mr. Longbottom, you will come to my office immediately to discuss your involvement in what is going on!"

Neville merely sneered and continued his chosen role. Eventually the party got outside and away from the throngs of non-trusted people and Harry calmed somewhat. Draco continued to coo and pull a now cooperative Harry towards the gates.

All of them could hear a whooshing sound in the distance and when they finally approached the main Hogwarts gates they could see the cause: an uncountable number of fireballs were hitting the gates every second, making them glow dangerously. Draco and Harry joined in with their own desperate fireballs and less than a minute later the gates abruptly lost their magic and melted to slag.

Neville ignored the amazing feat of destruction and simply stared at the two dozen people on the other side of the gates. Nearly half of them had the Malfoy signature platinum-blond hair. "You managed to call your family here, Malfoy?" Neville asked in shock.

"I did," Pansy said as she grabbed Neville and tugged. "I have an alert charm that I set off, same as Hermione did for Harry's people. Come on. We've already wasted too much time."

Draco gave an affirmative tweet and guided Harry out the gates.

Most of the guards immediately started checking the student contingent for tracking charms and dispelling what they found with more vigor and haste than finesse. Hermione removed a bracelet from her wrist and gave it an odd twist then several flips. Whatever she had done, it became apparent that what had looked like a multi-stranded bracelet was, in actuality, one long thin metallic circular rope. The rope was a good ten feet in diameter, plenty large enough for the nearly two dozen people invited to the birth to grab hold.

Two of the Veela guards took up positions between the gates, where no one had yet appeared, and the travelers, protecting them until they were able to leave. Neville was quick to grasp the rope, presuming correctly that the chain was their untraceable portkey to Draco's manor. Draco wrapped a piece of the chain around Harry's wrist and grabbed a portion himself. Everyone else followed suit as quickly as possible.

Hermione did a quick check to make sure everybody was touching the portkey then waited for the confirming nod of the guard captain before very clearly speaking the activation phrase. "Deliverance." Harry, Draco, and their guests immediately disappeared. The Veela guards left a moment after. The slag of the former gate was all that met the gaze of several Hogwarts staff when they arrived less than a minute later.

--end chapter--

I was going to post the birth along with this chapter, but, honestly? I need the extra day to finish the last chapter, so that will be tomorrow. Besides, this is a pretty long chapter, yes? (grin)

--The Muses--

I'm mixing the time periods here a bit, but anyway… Copied straight from Wikipedia…

The canonical nine Muses, with their fields of patronage, as established since the Renaissance, are:

Calliope (the 'beautiful of speech'): chief of the muses and muse of epic or heroic poetry

Clio (the 'glorious one'): muse of history

Erato (the 'amorous one'): muse of love or erotic poetry, lyrics, and marriage songs

Euterpe (the 'well-pleasing'): muse of music and lyric poetry

Melpomene (the 'chanting one'): muse of tragedy

Polyhymnia or Polymnia (the 'singer of many hymns'): muse of sacred song, oratory, lyric, singing and rhetoric

Terpsichore (the 'one who delights in dance'): muse of choral song and dance

Thalia (the 'blossoming one'): muse of comedy and bucolic poetry

Urania (the 'celestial one'): muse of astronomy

According to Hesiod's _Theogony_ (seventh century BC), they are the daughters of Zeus, king of the gods, and Mnemosyne, goddess of memory. In Hesiod's _Theogony_, kings and poets receive their powers of authoritative speech from their possession of Mnemosyne.

The Olympian system set Apollo as their leader


	31. Birth & Babies

A/N: gimlet eye - piercing stare

_Cookies to __Silver Lady & Maken_ _& Lady Foxy Roxy_ who figured out the birthing peculiarity back in chapters 16 & 19 & 30!

Next chapter – Robert's identity. Yay!

**Mpreg Warning:** More gross bird anatomy coming! The first section describes the birth – I advise skipping it if mpreg squicks you. The rest of the chapter – starting with "Morning" – should be mostly safe. There is mention of the babies, but no more specifics about the pregnancy and birth.

**Chapter 31 – Birth & Babies**

The party landed – in various states of gracefulness – in the large hall of Draco's manor. Many noted that the place appeared to have acquired a few decorations since the last time they'd been there.

Harry calmed somewhat upon seeing that he was in familiar and safe surroundings but then noticed the group around him and hissed in warning.

Every person quickly stepped back a good ten feet. Harry hissed again and, while it wasn't quite as violent as his first warning, everyone nevertheless stepped back another five feet. Harry twittered in satisfaction before relaxing into Draco's embrace. There was only a moment of silence before another contraction hit and Harry let out another screech.

Neville winced and looked around frantically. The healer was supposed to have come with them. Where was she? He watched in relief as an older woman stepped forward towards Harry.

Harry screeched in denial and swiped at the woman before reaching in Neville's direction as much as he was able while now being constrained by Draco.

Neville jerked in surprise and said reassuringly, "You'll be all right, Harry. The healer will take care of you."

Harry screeched again and struggled to reach a hand out to Neville.

The healer stepped back and said, "It seems to me, young man, that Harry wants you to deliver the chicks. Surely there is no reason why you cannot do this." The woman's tone was far from questioning. She was commanding Neville's acquiescence and everyone knew it.

Neville stared at her in shock then shifted his gaze to Harry. "You want me to be midwife?" he asked in disbelief.

Harry screeched yet again and Neville took a tentative step forward.

"You know, Harry," he said softly, "I've never done anything like this. Are you sure?"

Harry twittered and extended a now-released arm.

Neville looked over to Draco and said, "Malfoy? Is this acceptable to you?"

Draco let out an affirmative tweet.

Neville quickly stripped off his outer robes and dropped them on the floor then closed the distance between himself and Harry. "I've no idea what to do," Neville said urgently as Harry grasped onto him in obvious relief. "Somebody tell me what to do." He'd been prepared to be part of the surrounding protection and support circle, not to be the midwife!

The healer spoke quietly from her position halfway between the trio and the attendants who were now joining hands. "I will talk you through everything as the others maintain the magic of the support circle," she said. "The first thing you need to do is get Harry stripped. Draco, too, so that the skin-to-skin contact can provide additional magical support."

Neville nodded then was surprised to be given an entire armful of laboring Veela but did his best to support Harry through another screeching contraction as Draco quickly stripped, tossing his clothing aside haphazardly. Draco then used his claws to rip off Harry's clothes.

"Well, I suppose that's one way," Neville said as he transferred Harry back to Draco. "What next?"

"Blankets," the healer said simply. "A nest. And the bath for the chicks."

Neville looked around for blankets and tub, certain that Draco would have left them nearby.

A blond-haired young man – Neville could only presume it was some Malfoy cousin – said, "I see them." The young man left the circle and returned to his place half a minute later with a couple of folded blankets. "There're others."

"Get them," Neville said and the young man dropped his armload before retreating once again. Neville quickly retrieved the blankets and brought them to where Harry and Draco were standing. He winced as Harry screeched again but unfolded first one blanket then another and laid them flat upon the floor.

Harry obviously didn't like the arrangement and started kicking in the edges near him. Draco continued to hold Harry but allowed him to walk around the blankets and kick them into a rough circle while Neville went to retrieve the stack of several blankets that the blond cousin had dragged back to the circle. Neville took the hint and unfolded then scrunched the remaining blankets around the perimeter. He was relieved when Harry chittered in satisfaction. He retrieved the tub the cousin had brought back before rejoining the circle and moved it to next to the "nest" and activated the charm on it to fill it with warm water.

"Now?" Neville asked. This had been the easy part, he was sure.

"You are aware that the chicks will be delivered through the cloaca?" the healer asked as Harry and Draco, back to front, knelt in the middle of the nest of blankets.

"Yes," Neville said with a nod. "And they'll come out with a thin, leathery shell that needs to be removed."

"Very good," the healer said then paused as Harry screeched. "The cloaca will invert and push out the egg. You will need to catch the egg as Harry kneels there. Do not pull under any circumstance or else you might harm the chick."

Neville nodded his understanding and knelt in front of Harry and Draco.

"It shouldn't be long," the healer said. "As long as there are no complications, no Veela birth takes longer than thirty minutes."

"And if there are complications?" Neville asked nervously.

"Then we will deal with them," the healer said. "Harry is in excellent shape, however, and the support circle is strong with magic. There should be no problems."

Neville nodded then closed his eyes and felt for the magic of the protective circle. It was strong, just as the healer had said. The magic circle was imperative in a Veela birth, he knew. Being a magical cross-breed, they needed the additional magical support to bring forth a new generation.

Neville opened his eyes and held up his hands so Harry could see them. Slowly, he lowered them onto Harry's belly. Harry let out a small twitter, but otherwise made no protest as his belly was stroked. Neville idly wondered when the spells hiding Harry's pregnancy had been removed. Perhaps at the gates? No matter. Neville continued to stroke Harry's belly slowly and started talking quietly about how honored he was that Harry had allowed him to help sustain the pregnancy, how he felt even more honored that Harry had chosen him to be the midwife, that Draco had allowed it. He talked about how much he was looking forward to being a godfather and how he was planning on spoiling the little twins.

Neville talked about any number of other things to keep Harry calm through the remaining contractions. Ten minutes later Harry was arching his back and Neville was nervously holding his hands under Harry as the first egg started to be pushed from Harry's body. It was only seconds later that the egg was wholly expelled into Neville's waiting hands. It was surprisingly clean.

"Place the egg in the water and carefully tear the shell open starting around the chick's head," the healer said. "Be careful not to pull the remainder of the yolk sac or you will damage the umbilicus. Once the shell is removed, the remaining yolk should be absorbed. After that happens, bring the chick out of the water."

Neville moved over to the basin and set the egg into the water. He took a deep steadying breath and ever so carefully felt for the baby's head then tore the egg open. Having done that, he continued to slowly pull apart the thin shell to reveal the tiny baby. He watched in wonder as a small orange-ish blob glowed then rapidly flowed into the baby and formed a bellybutton. He put both hands under the baby, despite it being small enough he could easily hold it with just one, and lifted the baby out the water. He reverently held the baby, staring in wonder, until the healer reminded him to dry the baby and wrap it in one of the blankets.

Neville turned back to Harry and Draco, who he noted were watching him closely though not with any signs of distrust, and showed them the baby. "It's a boy," he said softly.

Both parents cooed and Neville grinned then snagged one of the perimeter blankets and carefully dried the baby. The baby didn't seem too happy with the chill of the air and was making weak mewing sounds. Neville snagged another blanket and wrapped the baby up snugly. By the time he was done, he had more blanket than baby. He set the baby close to the side of Harry and Draco then returned to his prior position in front of Harry.

A minute later Neville winced at a particularly piercing shriek from Harry. Neville went back to talking softly and stroking Harry's belly and five minutes later had the second egg in his hands. He submerged the egg, carefully tore open the shell, and watched the remaining yolk magically absorb into the second baby. More quickly this time he lifted out the baby and showed him to his parents. "Another boy," he said with a smile. Both parent cooed again.

"After you've bundled up this one, get more blankets and wrap up Harry," the healer said. "He needs to be kept warm as his magic puts the Veela organs back into stasis."

Neville nodded and bundled up the second baby in an overly large blanket and set him next to his brother. He grabbed several more blankets as Draco pulled Harry down to lay next to the babies. Neville spread the blankets over the couple and carefully tucked them in.

"Move the chicks in closer so Harry can look at them," the healer said.

Neville did as he was told, grabbing another blanket to prop them upright a bit so Harry could see their eyes. The attendants continued to maintain the support circle until all three fell asleep some fifteen minutes later.

"What now?" Neville asked softly so as not to disturb Harry or the babies.

"Now you set the shells to dry and watch over your charges until Harry wakes," the healer answered. "He should wake within three or four hours then show off the babies to us all before taking them away."

So Neville followed the healer's instructions on what exactly to do with the eggshells then took a seat not far from Harry and the babies and…watched. He mostly watched the babies but occasionally he would look up and around to make sure that none of the others had snuck any closer. Though they mingled and wandered about the room, everybody stayed well back and Neville didn't have to figure out what to do should anybody cross the invisible line Harry had drawn.

Three hours later Harry did wake and did smugly show off his babies then did, indeed, leave with them. Draco told everyone as he followed Harry out to feel free to call for Bitzy if they were hungry and to find a furnished room to rest for the night, though they might have to share. Neville, quite tired and emotionally wrung out, thought a bed sounded like a grand idea. He decided to forgo dinner and found a sufficiently furnished room, stripped, crawled into the bed, and promptly fell asleep. He didn't even care if he found some stranger in bed with him the next morning.

**--Morning--**

Draco came out of the bathroom and found Harry gazing down at the babies that were still sleeping in the crib that had been ordered a few months ago. Draco joined his mate in admiring their children.

Harry looked up at Draco and said, "I made them. You helped, of course, but I made them. I made them for you."

Draco smiled at Harry. "They're beautiful."

Harry looked slightly offended. "They're boys! You can't call them beautiful!"

Draco chuckled but obligingly corrected himself. "Handsome, then. They're quite handsome, if tiny, little things."

"Yes, they are," Harry said smugly as he returned his gaze to the crib.

Draco chuckled again. "Come and dress," he said. "Then we can take them with us down to breakfast and show them off some more."

Harry liked that idea a great deal and moved to fetch a couple baby blankets from the cabinet. Once there, however, he paused to look at the brightly wrapped presents Luna had given him for the babies that had somehow appeared in the cabinet overnight. Bitzy must have fetched and unpacked his trunk yesterday. Curiously, and not a little warily, he searched through the gifts for the ones labeled "1" and "2" – he was a bit suspicious when he saw that the tags also had little pictures of a rose and a heart respectively.

Harry brought the two presents back to Draco where he had remained standing by the babies. "Here, you open one," he said.

Draco took the box reluctantly and slowly unwrapped the present. He noted that his mate wasn't moving much faster. They both eventually got the wrappings off and shared a glance before lifting the lids to reveal…baby blankets. Innocuous baby blankets.

Except…

"Are these the symbols of the Muses?" Harry asked, indicating the images embroidered on the blankets. He was curious as to their meaning but still leery of having the eyes of any divine being upon his children, benevolent or not.

"Yes," Draco said, also uncomfortable with the idea of divine interest. "This one, with the comic mask, is for Thalia and that one, with the tragedy mask, is for Melpomene."

Harry hummed a response as they both stood there staring at the blankets. "Well, we should dress and wrap up the babies," he said eventually. He resolved to ignore the supposed interest of the Muses until the babies could at least walk.

Half an hour later, Harry and Draco were seated at the head of the dining table, their babies between them in a raised bassinet. All through breakfast the guests would approach one by one to take another view of the babies, this time looking appropriately tiny as they were wrapped up in smaller blankets. Harry only allowed Draco, Neville, Pansy, and his grandfather to hold them, however. Nobody else even bothered to ask.

Conversation was light-hearted and varied. It was during after-meal tea that Draco's Aunt Madeline asked a _question_.

"Where did you find your architect, Draco?" Madeline asked. "I've been looking for a decent architect for ages. The one you hired is quite creative and very skilled; definitely the best I've run across. I'm surprised that I haven't heard of them."

Draco's face turned pink and Harry started snickering.

Chloe admonished Madeline about bringing business to the table, but Madeline defended herself. "It's not business," she said sincerely. "This is pleasure. I've been looking for somebody to build a small vacation manor for me on a property on the Riviera. But finding somebody with the requisite skills has been impossible! I hadn't realized just how far the architectural profession had declined over the years!"

"Is it really that bad?" Chloe asked in curiosity. "I've been toying with having a small forest cottage built but haven't started looking for anyone to construct it."

"It's easy enough to find a good firm to build something," Madeline said with a dismissive wave. "The problem is that the firms have all these specialists. There's people to do the foundation then another set of people to do the walls then another set to do the windows then another set to do the interior finishing. What I want is a true manor, one that is magically integrated within itself, like this one. Only a manor built by a true constructive architect can hold certain wards, like this one. But finding a constructive architect is impossible! You can't get great manors like you used to without one! And I've been looking for years!"

Throughout the woman's entire exposition, Draco's face had continued to get more and more flushed. And Harry just continued to snicker. Several of the others had noted their expressions and many eyebrows were raised in their direction.

"Goodness," Chloe said in surprise. "I hadn't realized."

"It's true!" Madeline said earnestly then turned back to Draco. "So, Draco, whom did you hire? You'll give me contact information, won't you? I'm _definitely_ interested in hiring them. I'm sure they would be interested; I have 100,000 galleons budgeted for the construction. So, tell me, who built this for you?"

Draco was bright red as he mumbled something. Harry snickered a little louder.

"What was that, dear?" Madeline asked innocently. "I didn't hear you."

Draco gripped his teacup tightly, continued to stare at the table, and said, "I built it." His face continued to stay bright red as silence, except for Harry's laughter, descended upon the table.

"You built this manor?" Chloe eventually asked in surprise. She knew her great-grandson had had a summer project he was working on the past two summers but had had no idea that it might have been on such a scale.

"Yes," Draco admitted, still blushing hotly. At least Harry's snickers had decreased.

"Where did you learn how to do this?" Gaius asked softly. "I've heard some of Madeline's rants before and according to her no one had been able to do this type of thing for centuries."

"I taught myself," Draco said, squirming slightly. "I've always been interested in Malfoy Manor, even if I hated staying there, and my magic sight has always been good. I combined the two with lots of research on warding and construction spells and slowly figured how each piece was built. Then I started making models of the manor. At first it was just a physical model so I could learn what types of things I needed to do first. When I got to Hogwarts I started to integrate the ward spells into the models to learn how that was done. I still have lots of things to learn. I've never tried building completely in stone, for instance, nor on hills or into the side of mountains."

"This is a most impressive accomplishment, Draco," Gaius said, his tone giving truth to his words. "Even more so as you are barely eighteen."

"And especially since there haven't been any constructive architects for nearly two hundred years," Madeline said, also quite impressed. "As I said, the entire profession has been in decline. Later we can talk some business and put a contract together. I still want to hire your architect, and that's you."

Draco tried to regain some equilibrium and said, "I would be pleased to do business with you." He turned to his mate. "And you stop snickering at me."

"I told you," Harry said with a grin. When he'd found out that Draco had built their home he had told his mate that his services would be in demand should he let his skills be known. Draco had countered with the fact that he didn't consider himself anything but a novice still. Harry had snorted in disbelief and dropped the subject.

Draco merely sniffed at his mate's response and took a sip of his tea.

"Well, as long as we're talking about your amazing home," Hermione said with a smirk. "Would you please tell me where you acquired your library?"

Draco looked at the young woman blankly for a moment. "Pardon?"

"Your books?" Hermione asked pointedly.

Draco turned to look at Harry and cocked a questioning eyebrow. Harry merely smiled back innocently. "Just what books are you talking about? The last I knew, the library was rather empty but for a few of my reference books."

Hermione also turned to stare at Harry suspiciously. She leaned back in her chair and idly picked up her water glass to take a sip. "Oh, nothing too interesting, I suppose. Just all of the books ever written by the founders, including their personal and work journals. All the books ever required to be used by a student. And, of course, all the school's public records, including tests and syllabi for every class ever taught." She took another sip of water and watched as the expressions all around the table became shocked. And that was hard to do with a group of Malfoys. She noted that Harry's expression, while trying to remain innocent, started to have overtones of satisfaction.

Draco calmly set down his teacup and turned a stern gaze on his mate. "What have you done, Harry?"

Harry smirked and said, "I haven't done much of anything. I just had Bitzy make copies of what was available and put them in the library."

"Harry, most of those books can't be found," Hermione said with fond exasperation. "Salazar Slytherin's journals, for instance. I know for a fact that they were destroyed by the Ministry."

Harry shrugged his shoulders and said, "Maybe they really weren't."

"Harry," Draco said sternly, "How did you acquire those copies?"

"I don't think I want to give away all my secrets," Harry said stubbornly.

Draco leaned over the babies and put his hand behind Harry's neck and pulled Harry towards him. "Where did you get them, Harry?" he asked and tilted his head to the side, blocking the other's view of Harry's mouth, so that Harry could whisper his response.

Harry obediently whispered his answer into the provided ear and leaned back with a smug smirk.

The others watched as Draco's eyebrows rose and rose and then a smirk started to grow bigger and bigger. Draco also sat back and took a sip of his tea. "We'll have to see if your source can provide us with other books of interest, Harry."

Harry merely snorted in amusement and picked up his own tea. Likely Hermione would be all over him to learn his secret. He'd give it to her, too, as he had no intention of ever returning to Britain, much less Hogwarts and the Room of Requirement. Let Hermione and her people have their fun.

"So, Neville, how are you this morning," Harry said, deliberately changing the subject. "Did you have any problems from sleeping here instead of Hogwarts?"

Neville scowled briefly then said, "No. I slept fine. Thank you for asking."

"Do you want to return today?" Draco asked. "You're welcome to stay, of course, but if you feel it best to return…"

"No. I'll stay," Neville said firmly. "It's only three more days. Just…let me at your landscaping? It will keep me occupied."

"Oh, please do," Draco said with a small laugh. "I admit I'm no good at creating gardens."

"What is this?" Gaius asked suspiciously.

Neville, Draco, Harry, Robert, and Hermione all scowled and muttered darkly. It was Lavender who was the most collected over the situation and the only one able to answer instead of mumbling imprecations. "Neville was dosed with a place-binding potion – to Hogwarts we think, though we're not completely sure. It was only once before we caught it, but once is enough."

Gaius was taken aback at the response and he wasn't the only one. He ignored the gasps and exclamations from all around the table as he asked, "And you've been working at clearing the binding? Is that what you meant when you said you only had three more days?"

"Yes," Neville said tightly. "I'm sure this manor wasn't on the list of approved places, so I'll have a rough time if I stay. But I'm staying. It's only three more days of potions and spells to cleanse the bind and I'd rather suffer than return. I won't be good company, though."

Lavender patted Neville on the shoulder. "That's all right. We understand. And when you're free I'll have Harry free me, too."

"You're bound, too!" Chloe exclaimed. Like her husband, she also ignored the shock making its rounds of the table.

"No, I've been cursed," Lavender said, scrunching her nose. "It's an old curse that they used to use for birth control about a century ago until they realized that it had side-effects if left on too long. Hermione says I'll be fine, though."

"You will be," Hermione said. She turned to an appalled Chloe and added, "It's the sterilitas curse. If left on for a year or more it causes lingering fertility problems. It's been on Lavender only a few months so far. It was strongly cast, however, and we'll need Harry to break it."

"So you've waited until after the babies were born. Good," Chloe said with a nod.

Hermione nodded back and sipped some water. "That was the most important reason, of course. We also decided it would be better to leave the spell alone so as not to invite additional problems that we might not be able to counter so easily."

"Who has done this?" Gaius asked angrily.

"We think Dumbledore," Draco said with a grimace as he fiddled with his teacup. "We can't prove it, of course, but we're pretty certain. He badly wants Harry to stay in Britain and fight."

"He can't touch me, though, and he knows it," Harry said bitterly. "If he does anything to me, it'll just drive me away. So, instead, he's using my friends to try and keep me there. He sees them as a weak link in my general attitude of _disloyalty to the cause_. If he can get them, he can get me."

"And what about you, dear?" Chloe asked Hermione, a frown on her face.

Hermione smiled coldly. "He dosed me with a binding potion, too, maybe even the same one he gave Neville. Too bad for him I was already bound somewhere and the new bond didn't root. Because I was already bonded, I felt the new bond trying and failing to anchor. It was how we knew to check the others."

"And what actions are you taking against him?" Gaius demanded.

Harry snorted. "Nothing. We're leaving him to his own devices. That will be punishment enough for him as he fights this war without our participation."

"Without…so you don't want to create the nets?" Gaius asked in confusion.

"Oh, no, I do," Harry assured Gaius. "But Dumbledore will never know that. From his perspective it will seem as if I've abandoned the war completely. It will serve him right. I hope he suffers."

"So, I think I'll go to the French Ministry today and arrange for you eight to finish your tests next week," Robert cut in brightly.

Everyone turned to stare at Harry's grandfather in varying degrees of amusement and shock.

"I doubt the British Ministry will be reasonable," Robert continued blithely. "It would be a shame for you not to graduate, don't you agree?"

Harry laughed slightly, understanding that his grandfather was trying to re-lighten the mood. "Sure, Grandfather, I'd like that."

After getting the agreement of all the students, some eager and some uncaring, the talk turned to other miscellaneous topics and remained light-hearted for a time. Then someone asked about the ramifications of the public learning that Harry had chosen Draco as his mate. That subject was quickly dropped, however, when Harry quite crossly hissed out that he didn't care a single whit what the public thought of him.

So, in an effort to sooth a now agitated submissive with new chicks, the topic was swiftly changed to the babies. Everybody breathed an internal sigh of relief when Harry immediately took on a smug countenance and happily described the plans he and Draco had made.

Once the babies had completely absorbed the remaining yolks – about 24 hours after their "hatching" – they would be weighed, measured, and posed for pictures. Announcements would then be sent to _The Quibbler_, most of Harry's family (Gaius twitched at that but not many people noticed since most were staring at the amused grins on the faces of Harry and party), all of Draco's family (more than a few vindictive smirks were had at the thought of Lucius' reaction), and miscellaneous friends. Then the babies would be taken for the Queen's Blessing on the new moon, the 24th.

The Queen's Blessing, only given to chicks Veela-born, wasn't necessary or required, though most did seek it. It was also more customary to wait until the chicks were about six months old before securing the Queen's Blessing, but Harry wanted to seek it right away. There were a number of suspicious glances shared at the again amused looks on the faces of Harry and his party. Draco, too, looked askance at his mate, but recognized the signs that he wasn't going to be told anything just yet.

Most of the Malfoy guests left after breakfast, only Gaius and Chloe staying behind. Harry ignored those remaining in favor of taking his children away once again and getting a short nap. The magical birth had taken a lot more out of him than he had realized. After his nap, Draco had summoned the healer and glared a sulking Harry into a checkup. The babies were checked next, much to Harry's intense aggravation – how dare she touch his babies! – and were declared hardy and hale. The only reason he hadn't fried the healer was because Draco was right there telling him how bad an idea that would be. She wisely left the estate after she was finished.

It was while he was addressing announcements in the partially furnished library that Hermione came to join him. He watched her with a gimlet eye as she took another long look at his babies.

Hermione turned to her friend with a knowing expression. "They're adorable, Harry."

Harry grinned. "Yes, they are," he agreed. "Did you come to bug me for my secret?"

Hermione laughed lightly. "No. I think I've figured it out, actually. You used the Room of Requirement, didn't you? I don't know why I didn't think of that myself. How did you come up with the idea?"

"I didn't," Harry said with a chuckle. "I actually got the idea from Bitzy. The poor girl was so bored one day she was sobbing on my boots begging for something to do. The little snacks she was making for me to help with my pregnancy just weren't enough to keep her busy. Which reminds me, I've been meaning to ask about your sudden and complete turnaround on the subject of house-elves."

"I've learned a lot of things in my new position," Hermione said as she took a seat in one of the nearby easy-chairs. "One of those things was a crash course on the basics of sentient beings. I found out that house-elves can die if they don't have enough _assigned_ work. Assigned being the operative word, not self-decided. So what did Bitzy say that gave you the idea?"

"I asked her what she could do," Harry asked then grimaced. "That wasn't really a bright idea on my part, actually."

Hermione laughed. She could just imagine the little elf listing out every individual task she could accomplish.

Harry laughed as well. "She said she was good at making clothes, that she could copy anything I pointed out. Then she said she could file papers. I got this little epiphany and asked her if she could copy papers. And she said yes."

"But what made you think about the Founders' things?" Hermione asked curiously. "Why not just set her to copying the library if that's what you wanted."

"I didn't want her to be found out so I didn't want her to go to the library. I took her to the Room instead and asked for the library," he said and once again grimaced. "That was also not a good idea."

"Why not?" Hermione asked, tilting her head to one side.

"There were too many," Harry said with a shrug. "Poor Bitzy got upset that she'd never be able to finish before I left the school and she wouldn't be able to come back. I had to think of _some_ way to limit the number of books. Founders' writings and then the school related stuff was what I came up with. I didn't realize until later that some of the things the Room made were no longer in existence."

"Hmmm, I'll have to experiment," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"So if you didn't come to get my secret, why did you come?" Harry asked curiously.

"Can't I just want to spend time with you?" Hermione asked innocently.

"Maybe," Harry said with a chuckle. "But I'd be more inclined to think you had a reason. Or maybe you're escaping."

Hermione sniffed. "I can hold my own," she said haughtily.

"Right," Harry said with a smirk. "So was it Chloe? I know she wants to go shopping for the Blessing."

"Well, I have agreed to go shopping for yet another fancy dress that I will hardly ever wear," Hermione said wryly. "But, no, that's not why either."

"Why, then?" Harry asked curiously.

"I'd like to ask a boon," Hermione said tentatively. "And please don't think that if you say no that I'll be angry."

"What do you need?" Harry asked with a frown. "And why would you be worried? You know I'll help you however I can. Even if you weren't my blood-sister."

"It's about the shells," Hermione said and bit her lip. "Do you know what is usually done with them?"

Harry blinked in surprise and confusion. "They're usually sold. Wizards use the shells in several different potions. They fetch a pretty penny and the proceeds are usually placed into a trust account for the chick."

Hermione nodded. "Yes. More wealthy families will sometimes donate the proceeds to charity," she added.

"True," Harry said slowly. "Draco and I were thinking of starting a fund to help relocate all the Veela citizens in Britain to France. Did you want me to donate the proceeds elsewhere?"

Hermione paused. "I'd like to have them," she said hesitantly. "One of the potions that can be made is the Felix Felicis. My people and I…we could really use the luck as things go to Hell."

Harry was quiet for nearly a full minute as he thought over the request. Eventually, he nodded. "Tell Draco why and you can have them."

"Do you think he'll accept it?" Hermione asked with a frown.

"Yes," Harry said with certainty. "He knows about the prophecy. I told him after we mated. He believes it, understands it, as much as any of us do, and he's fine with your role ever since you told him. He does respect you, you know."

"He still calls me Granger," Hermione protested.

"You still call him Malfoy," Harry answered.

"And I will until he calls me by my first name," Hermione said stubbornly.

"Of course," Harry said with a small smile. He couldn't wait to see who would give in first. He and Pansy had a friendly little bet going.

--end chapter --

Birds do not have an umbilical cord per se. What they do have is an umbilicus that attaches the yolk to embryo. As the bird hatches the remainder of the yolk is absorbed into the hatchling's "bellybutton". This umbilicus can get infected but generally heals and leaves no scar. More than you wanted to know, yeah? (grin)

sterilitas, sterilitatis N (3rd) F 3 1 F XXXBO - barrenness, sterility, inability (female) to reproduce/(land) to produce crops;


	32. The Queen's Blessing

**Delay Notice:** There is one more chapter. I won't get it out tomorrow. Hope springs eternal, of course, but I expect it won't be ready until the day after, and probably late at that. I thank everyone for their encouragement and declaring their willingness to wait if necessary.

There is no sequel planned – hopefully the last chapter will wrap up everything. Feel free to ask questions.

Harry's pregnancy – beekay asked about this, so I thought I'd clarify in case anyone else was slightly confused. Harry conceived all 12 babies at the mating, but the eggs go into stasis so that means a pregnancy doesn't necessarily happen right away. Only when his Veela magics are happy will a pregnancy be initiated. This means it could have been years before Harry became pregnant. That he became right away was a surprise.

Now the cookies…

_For figuring out Harry's heritage - a whole batch of cookies to:  
njferrell_, who figured out all the way back in chapter 1 about Lily and why she kept her heritage quiet and got even closer by chapter 9._  
TeRa SloAn_ who mostly figured it out in chapter 16._  
Lady PhoenixFyre_ who figured it out partially in chapter 22 and completely in chapter 28._  
Yanna_ who figured it out in 30_  
Maken_ who figured it out exactly in 31

_For miscellaneous inspirations - cookies to:  
Lady PhoenixFyre_ for asking about the Dursleys reaction_  
Immortal Sailor Cosmos_ for asking about Lily and why she mated to James._  
Iredesent_ for asking about Lily's pregnancy_  
dolphins-r-fun_ for asking about Harry's "married" name_  
MoonlightPrincess_ for asking about Albus' reaction

_To HeavenGoddess_ who has once again corrected my French

_To Silver Lady_ – back in chapter 15 - when I first saw Delamater for a French surname, my first impression was "of the mother" and that, combined with its actual French meaning of master/overseer, is indeed why I picked it. Cookies to you!

(wipes sweat from forehead from slaving over the oven, again)

**Chapter 32 – The Queen's Blessing**

--June 10--

Snape's fury was absolutely _incandescent_. He'd tutored the boy when he was little. He'd encouraged him in his potions work. He'd protected the boy while at Hogwarts. _And this was how he was repaid?_ How dare he? _How dare he?_

He'd kept his fury hidden, with _supreme_ difficulty, while still at Hogwarts. But now Lucius was in his sights.

"Osseus Frango!" Severus yelled.

Lucius ducked the bone shattering curse and screamed back, "Artus Seco!"

Severus twisted away from the spell and ignored the cry of a random Death Eater behind him getting his leg severed and shouted another vicious dark curse. This one clipped Lucius and Severus cried out in triumph then immediately shielded a spell from the blond.

They continued on for nearly a quarter hour when both combatants were suddenly felled by the strongest cruciatus curse they had ever felt. Neither Severus nor Lucius felt like moving when the spell was finally lifted some indeterminate time later.

"Are you quite finished trying to kill one another?" Voldemort hissed dangerously.

Both men muttered the appropriate response although neither felt the fight was close to over.

"Now, if I understand correctly all your screeching prior to this display of dueling prowess, young Draco has gone and done something foolish once again. Am I right?" Voldemort asked sweetly.

Severus shook in fear. It was never a good thing when Voldemort sounded like that. "This imbecile has raised a fool for a son!" he said as loud as he could as he attempted to climb to his knees.

"He has been under your guidance these last years! This is your fault!" Lucius spat out as he also laboriously gained his knees.

"Silence," Voldemort said angrily. "We were to discuss our new target tonight and instead I find out that Draco is Potter's mate! _Potter's mate!_ You both are to blame for this travesty!"

Severus and Lucius both remained silent, hoping against hope to make it out alive this night.

"_Crucio,"_ Voldemort said softly.

--June 11--

Luna watched with a smile as Ron Weasley threw yet another fit about the identity of Harry's mate. The redhead wasn't the only one furious over the revelation, but he was the most vocal. She looked around at the other students.

The Gryffindors were upset. Luna noted that most didn't understand the lesson that could be learned from this pairing. With long practice she ignored the white skulls superimposed over the faces of most of that House. They would die before the new era.

The Hufflepuffs were upset, too, but more of them were wondering about what it meant that Harry Potter had mated to Draco Malfoy. Some of the most stalwart romantics were in Hufflepuff and they were already talking about love and destiny. Many of them would die, too, though, before the new era, and sooner than the Gryffindors.

The Ravenclaws vacillated between shock, anger, and an analytical wonder. She absently noted the few among them that she would end up saving from death. The stories running through her House at the reasons behind Harry's choice were quite funny. None had yet thought to suggest a growing respect and affection between the pair. Silly Ravenclaws.

Slytherin House was the most affected. There had already been many who had started rethinking their priorities due to the fight between Draco and Millicent last year. And now to find that their leader had chosen so? Many would save themselves by leaving. Others would die in the destruction or by the King's hand. A few she would save when the time came.

Luna's attention wandered to the head table. Of all the staff, only three would live. One would leave and never return. One would fight with the Phoenix and see the new era, but be unable to bring herself to swear fealty to the King and would retreat to her home only to die in loneliness and heartbreak months later. The last one she would rescue and hide and he would become a revered teacher. It was only he that would once again teach at this school once the King came.

Her gaze moved to the Phoenix. This man was a mass of white and black. He wasn't a neutral gray, but a dichotomy of evil and good. He had done many good things in life. And he had done much evil as well. He fought hard to defeat evil, yet refused to address the root problems and knowingly sent children – many, many, more than just Harry – back to evil environments again and again. His evils committed by omission were just as black. He inspired many to moral lives, yet so many were lost to the morass of hate and anger because he refused to heed their drowning cries.

This man would live, but only because his presence would keep alive much of the population until the King was ready to claim his land. And when the King was deemed ready by the Gods, the Phoenix would die. Perhaps, over the next many years, the Phoenix would redeem himself.

Luna smiled. And waited. She knew her place. She knew her task. And, one day, she would know the King.

--June 12--

Moody thumped his way up the very long walk to the Malfoy Estates. He was quite aware of each guard station that he had passed and that he was being _allowed_ entrance. He was under no illusions that he'd have been able to make it this far without the specific permission of the Malfoy Head.

He turned yet another sharp corner and finally saw the front of the humongous mansion. And there, by the fountain not twenty feet away, was Gaius Malfoy himself.

"Mr. Moody," Gaius said in greeting. "How are you today?"

Moody scowled. "Cut the pleasantries," he growled. "We both know why I'm here."

"Why don't you enlighten me," Gaius said pleasantly.

"I just want to know one thing," Moody said. "Is Harry Potter safe with your family?"

Gaius raised an eyebrow. "Of course," he said.

"What about Lucius?" Moody snarled.

"I see not why this is important to you," Gaius said.

"Damn it, man! That boy is important in a way you don't understand," Moody said angrily. "I want your guarantee that you will protect him from your family snake."

"So you can reassure your master?" Gaius asked with slight disgust.

Moody barked a sharp laugh. "My master has not yet been born. Now, your assurances."

Gaius blinked. "Indeed?" he questioned curiously. "What an odd thing to say."

"Your assurances!" Moody insisted.

"And you would trust my word?" Gaius asked in disbelief.

Moody smiled scarily. "I know what your family does, Gaius Malfoy," he said. "I was thirty-two when I was healed by a woman my age that I'd never seen at school. I made it my business to know where she came from. It took me _years_ of investigation, but I finally figured it out. I've kept my silence. And for my silence all these years I want your assurances."

Gaius remained impressively blank in expression. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't," Moody said with a snort. "I've watched dozens of your people's speeches to the children. Food, housing, a promise of education. I keep those children's names and watch for them later. The ones I've found have always done well for themselves. Good job. I want your assurances."

Gaius paused. "You have them," he said finally.

"Good," Moody said and turned to leave.

"You don't even want to question me about Harry?" Gaius asked curiously.

Moody stopped and laughed again. "Would you tell me anything?"

"No," Gaius admitted.

"Then why waste my breath?" Moody said with a shrug. "I'd tell Albus you refused to answer, except he has no reason to ask since he doesn't know I'm here."

"Why have you kept your silence?" Gaius asked softly.

"Because I'm not a bloody fool," Moody said in disgust. "That law is one of the worst examples of idiocy in our society, and we've got some pretty bad examples. Instead of concentrating on the welfare of the children, those in power were more concerned with asserting their superiority. In their rush to win their victory, they ignored the possibility of abuse. They should have created some kind of oversight committee. I've had muggle contacts watch those kids I knew about and I've taken certain steps upon occasion."

Gaius' eyes widened. "You're the reason so many of the children have lost a parent! You've taken out assassination contracts!"

"I would never hire someone to do something I could do better myself," Moody said with a shrug. "You just keep on with what you're doing and make sure Harry Potter is kept safe and I'll go back to my role."

Once again Moody turned to leave and this time Gaius did not stop him.

--June 13--

"Kingsley?" Albus asked hopefully.

"Nothing," Kingsley said as he sat back in his chair. "I filed the kidnapping charges here and in France like you asked but there have been no results as yet."

"Surely you've received warrants for questioning and such?" Elphias asked.

"We did," Kingsley said with a shrug. "But we've not gotten any leads as to Potter's whereabouts."

"Surely the Malfoys know something," Albus said, hiding his irritation. Once he'd recovered from being blasted back into the students, he and Minerva had rushed to the gates. They'd been too late and Albus had been furious over the attack, the state of the gates, and the fact that it appeared that it was Draco Malfoy who was Harry's mate. The Malfoys were a powerful family and would be able to prevent his access to Harry. It had taken him hours to calm down sufficiently to start making and modifying plans.

"They do," Tonks said. "Some of them, anyway. They know that Draco Malfoy has his own home and that's it's in France. They can tell us that it's new-ish and partially furnished. They can't tell us anything else, though, especially where it's at or how to get there. They all arrived and left by portkey."

"What about…about him having babies?" Molly asked, wringing her hands. She had seven children, but she would never have been able to deliver them without medical help. She was very worried.

"He delivered twins successfully," Kingsley said. "That's all they can tell us. Their family oaths prevent them from telling us even the gender of the babies. The Malfoy family is pretty much a dead end investigation-wise."

"What about his friends?" Marcus asked.

"Unavailable at this time," Tonks said. "Liam Cadbury doesn't know where his wife is other than somewhere in France with Harry, the Longbottoms didn't even know that much, and the Grangers haven't seen their daughter for nearly a year after some big fight about her getting a wizarding job."

"What job?" Albus asked intently.

"We've not been able to find any record of her employment anywhere," Tonks said with a huff. "We won't know if she was lying or if her job is under the table somehow until we can find her and ask."

"What about the French Ministry?" Albus asked. "Draco must have registered his property and purchased the permits to build his home. Those documents must be on file."

Moody chuckled. "They've been classified by the ICW," he said. "It was done the first week of January. I really want to know who the lad's advisor is. They've been five steps ahead this entire time."

"This is not good news, Alastor," Albus said angrily. "Nevertheless, even the ICW must bow to a kidnapping charge. They will have to release those documents and we can investigate from there."

"They won't," Moody said, restraining his grin. "They said the kidnapping charge is invalid as the lad is over seventeen."

"I have custody until Harry is twenty-one," Albus said. He knew the grandfather could void the custody papers, but he hadn't. And until the grandfather came forward, Albus' own custody of Harry was legal. And should the grandfather come forward, then Albus could talk some sense into the man.

Moody shrugged. "The ICW says the lad is an adult and refuses your claim."

"The French are following their lead, too," Kingsley reported. "They say that if the ICW says there is no crime then they don't feel like wasting their time."

Albus took a deep breath to settle his frustration. "I see. Is there a watch on the Cadbury, Granger, and Longbottom residences?"

"Yes," Tonks said. "We'll know immediately when any of those three return."

"Then we will wait until those three can be questioned," Albus said. "For now, let us talk about what Severus reported to me."

"Where is he?" Moody asked suspiciously.

"He is recovering," Albus said simply. "Now, Severus reports…"

--June 15--

Vernon was about to walk into the kitchen to join his wife for breakfast when something caught his eye. He stepped back and looked curiously at the new picture Petunia must have hung yesterday. Once he got a decent look, however, he yelled out in shock and anger. "Petunia! Petunia!"

Petunia rushed into the front room in alarm. "Vernon? What is it? What's happened?"

"This! This has happened! What is the meaning of this?" Vernon blustered angrily.

Petunia looked to where her husband was pointing and saw a new picture on the wall. Her curiosity spurred her to take a better look at the contents of the double-matted picture frame. She noted absently that the frame was quite nice. She sucked in a shocked breath when she saw that the picture on the left side was of the freak, another young man, and two babies. All of them were probably freaks, too. It was almost a compulsion that made her read the announcement that occupied the right half of the frame.

"We welcome with love," Petunia read then couldn't make out the two names that were listed. "Born June 10th , 1998 at 12:52 p.m. and 12:59 p.m., 6 pounds and 3 ounces and 5 pounds and 14 ounces, 17 inches and 16 inches. Hatched to Draco Lucius Malfoy out of Harry James…," Petunia once again trailed off as the name became blurry and unreadable.

Petunia stumbled back in horror. "Get it off! Get it off!" she shrieked.

Vernon, gratified by his wife's response, immediately attempted to do her bidding. But the picture wouldn't budge. He pulled and pounded, but the thing refused to move. He went to the closet for the cricket bat then came back and tried to break the offending item. But the glass didn't break.

Petunia continued to shriek and Vernon finally decided to break out the wall around the horrid thing and remove it that way. He made a nice hole in the sheetrock all around the picture frame, only to discover that the thing _still_ wouldn't budge. He'd have to saw through the stud to get the thing off and out of his house.

Vernon yelled in frustration, Petunia continued to shriek in horror, and somewhere in France Harry was grinning vindictively as Hermione related what she'd done with her birth announcement and asked for another for her own keepsakes.

--June 17--

Alastor watched as Albus paced agitatedly back and forth across his office. He finally grew tired of it. "What have you done, Albus?" he asked.

Albus stopped and looked at his friend. "Pardon?"

"What have you done?" Alastor asked again. "I recognize this pacing. It's what you do when you planned something you thought was clever and your plans fell through. So, what have you done?"

Albus looked away and out the window and over the grounds of Hogwarts. "I bound Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger to Hogwarts," he admitted eventually. "They should have been forced to return by now."

Alastor was quiet for several minutes. "That was wrong of you, Albus," he said softly.

"Perhaps," Albus said just as softly. "But I am desperate, Alastor. If his friends must stay, then Harry will stay. He must return, Alastor. We are lost without him."

"Well, while your actions aren't a moot point, it seems that your plans didn't work out," Alastor said. "You used a light bond instead of a dark one, didn't you? They must have cleansed it."

"I would never use dark magic, Alastor, you know that," Albus said indignantly. "And I wish I knew how they discovered it. They would have had to start the cleansing immediately for it to not be in effect right now. Those two should have been back by now."

Alastor sighed. "Albus…"

"We need him," Albus said, his desperation leaking into his tone. "We need him and if I must use his friends to ensure he helps us then that is what I shall do."

Alastor rather thought that Albus was too enamored with the theory that the end justifies the means. "Perhaps you ought to look to revising your strategy, Albus," he said gently. "I am certain that you will never again see Harry Potter. You need to focus on what you _can_ do to help in the coming war."

"We _need_ him, Alastor!" Albus cried desperately.

"_You're not going to get him,"_ Alastor said harshly. "Now sit down and let's talk about what you _can_ do."

Albus sat behind his desk and put his head in his hands.

"The first thing I think you ought to do is have _The Prophet_ publish how to cast the fidelius…"

--June 20--

"You were wrong!" Ron screamed at his older brother. "You convinced me to apologize and he'd already turned dark and betrayed us!"

"You have no evidence of that," Charlie said wearily. He wasn't best pleased, either, but they'd been listening to Ron's ranting for the last ten minutes since he and Ginny had arrived home from the Express and he was getting tired of it.

"He chose _Malfoy!_ What more evidence do I need that that?" Ron questioned loudly.

"And what's wrong with Draco Malfoy?" Ginny asked quietly. The entire family gaped at her. She squared her shoulders and raised her chin. "What _exactly_ is wrong with Draco Malfoy? He's been polite ever since he turned seventeen. He said he was finally away from his father's whims. Doesn't that imply that he doesn't share his father's beliefs? Didn't you listen to that argument he had with Millicent? Do you think Harry would really choose someone that was evil? Don't any of you trust Harry's judgment?"

"He could have been tricked," Arthur said eventually.

"And that right there is why Harry kept the identity of his mate a secret," George said softly. "Nobody would believe him if he claimed he chose of his own free will. Nobody's ever believed Harry about important things, have they?"

"Of course we have!" Molly said indignantly.

"No, George is right," Fred denied. "Nobody believed him about somebody being after the philosopher's stone. Nobody believed him about not knowing anything about the Heir of Slytherin. Nobody believed him about Sirius. Nobody believed him about the Goblet of Fire. Nobody believed him about Umbridge. I bet nobody would have believed him about being half-Veela if he hadn't shifted form at the welcoming feast."

"Nobody in a position of authority has ever been there for him," Ginny said, shaking her head at her parents. "And now all of you are surprised that he's been keeping secrets and has left? It's no wonder he didn't tell you the identity of his mate or that he was pregnant. He was probably afraid you wouldn't believe him that Draco Malfoy was a good choice. He was probably afraid for his babies."

"We would never harm the babies!" Molly said, aghast at the implication.

"You would have done everything you could to keep Harry away from Draco," Ginny said sadly. "And then the babies wouldn't have a father. How can you say that wouldn't be harming them?"

Molly opened her mouth but closed it again in defeat. Ginny was right. She closed her eyes and held back a sob. She'd lost one of her babies and it was partly her fault.

Arthur put his arms around his wife. "Everyone go to your rooms until dinner."

"But, Dad…," Ron started.

"Now, Ronald," Arthur said firmly and watched as his children filed out of the room.

Fred and George shared a glance as they left. Tonight they would cast the spell that had been taught to them by their bosses in the Unspeakables. Tonight they would protect their childhood home as Harry had asked of them.

--June 24--

The new moon finally came and Harry, Draco, and Neville dressed in the traditional sleeveless green robes of those seeking a Blessing. The babies were bathed and wrapped, naked, in the traditional soft white blankets. Everyone else dressed fancily for a day in the Queen's Court, Hermione patiently allowing Lavender to fuss over her and make her beautiful while Chloe saw to Pansy. Robert smirked at the thought of the coming revelation. Gaius fidgeted – this would mark the end of the Malfoy's low profile and he was nervous, though he'd never admit it. Only Vincent and Gregory seemed completely calm and unfazed.

The time for departure came and Harry passed a baby each to Pansy and Neville to hold while the portkey was taken to the Veela Palace. Harry sighed in resignation when he arrived sprawling. At least his babies had arrived safely. The party shared hugs and best wishes and split. Harry, Draco, and Neville with the babies, left for the special antechamber used by those seeking a Blessing. The rest of the party left to join the other family members in the gallery that were coming that day to see the Blessing.

Harry and the others followed a page to the antechamber and began visiting with the other people already there. Eventually the antechamber off the throne room held forty or fifty other couples and midwives with new babies. Harry mingled freely with the others – delighting, as were the others, in showing off his chicks. Everyone was quite impressed with Harry's twins, but nobody felt inadequate as Harry was more than gracious in his praise of everyone else's children.

Less than an hour after they had arrived a chime was heard and the first couple, with their midwife and baby, left the antechamber to be presented to the Queen to ask her Blessing. Harry continued to mingle and preen, knowing it would be some time before it was their turn. It was traditional for twins to go last so as not to steal the limelight from everybody else. Eventually, only Harry, Draco, Neville and the babies were left. Soon, another chime sounded. The babies were handed to Neville and they left the antechamber.

The herald – a different one than to whom they'd given their names when they'd arrived – announced them to the Queen, Court, and guests. Harry took a quick glance around as they walked towards the Queen and was able to easily spot the throng of Malfoy hair in the gallery on the Queen's left. And, yes, there was Lucius and Narcissa. Oh, how he couldn't wait to see their faces…

They stopped at the first step of the Queen's dais and Harry and Draco bowed deeply then kneeled with their heads down. Neville, by virtue of having his arms full of infants, was only required to bow his head.

"Welcome to Our Court. What do you seek of Us?" came the Queen's voice.

"We seek Your Majesty's Blessing upon a new generation," Draco said strongly.

"Rise, then, and approach," the Queen said.

Harry and Draco rose and stepped up onto the lower dais and took the dozen steps forward until they reached the second step, Neville trailing close behind them. Once again they bowed to the Queen.

As Harry rose from his bow he looked straight at the Queen. She was looking at Draco but soon enough shifted her gaze to him. He stared proudly into her bright green eyes – eyes the same color as his grandfather's, the same color as his mother's, the same color as his own. He smiled and the Queen smiled back.

"Looking at you, We believe We know how you are half-veela," the Queen said, breaking the standard ceremony. "The question is, do you know?"

"Yes, great-grandmother, I know," Harry said and gave a wide grin when he heard Draco squeak in astonishment. The astonished hubbub of the crowd was also intensely satisfying. He hoped Hermione had caught Lucius' and Narcissa's expressions as he'd asked. He so wanted to see them in a pensieve memory.

"What a naughty great-grandson you are," the Queen said in amusement after the clamor had died down. "Not telling your mate."

Harry grinned unrepentantly.

"M-my Queen," Draco started in dismay, then stilled when the Queen waved him to silence.

"It is not your fault that you did not know. It is quite clear that Our great-grandson wanted to surprise you. We are certain you would have sought Our permission to court him had you known, as you should have." The Queen turned her attention back to her descendant. "Tell me why it is you kept this secret?"

As Harry went to answer the question the Queen abruptly held up her hand with a calculating look on her face. "On second thought," she turned to Draco, "_you _tell Us why Our great-grandson kept this secret."

Draco blinked then drew in a breath to answer. "He already had many suitors courting him because of being the Boy-Who-Lived. How many more suitors would he have had for being a Veela prince? Also, he would have been in even greater danger had his full heritage been known." Draco paused. "Not to mention, it was a great opportunity to see me flustered," he said ruefully.

Harry snickered quietly, unable to counter Draco's accusation.

"Very good, Draco," the Queen said with a smirk.

Draco looked at her and flushed in a combination of pride and embarrassment. He just now realized the question had been a test of whether he was worthy of a Prince of her line and he had passed. He hoped he passed her other tests; she had the ability to break his bond to Harry if she felt he would not be a good enough mate.

"Present to Us your child," the Queen commanded, bringing the ceremony back on track.

Draco regained his confidence and smiled just slightly. He saw Harry's expression return to its smug countenance out of the corner of his eye. Perhaps the fact that there were two babies would help convince the Queen?

Neville stepped forward nervously but with his head held high, proudly presenting himself as the midwife. It was an honor to be the midwife, especially as a male. It was unusual to have a male midwife; even the x-males usually preferred to be attended by a female. The Veela would recognize his worthiness, even if the position meant nothing special to wizards.

Harry turned and took several moments to touch and coo at his children. Harry then looked over to Draco and nodded, confirming that the children were his.

Draco stepped over to Neville and carefully took his eldest son. He unwrapped the baby, handed the blanket to Harry, and turned to the Queen. He approached the throne and knelt at the Queen's feet. He held up his naked son with both hands and looked into the Queen's eyes as he said, "Great Queen of Our People, I present to You a child of my loins and ask of You to grant him Your blessing and allow him the touch of Your wisdom."

The Queen took the baby and looked at him with a smile. The large grayish-blue eyes looked at the Queen with a baby's fascination. Perhaps the eyes would turn green as the baby grew. Setting him in her lap, she looked up and asked, "And what is the name of this child?"

"This child, my son, I have named Amandus Robert. He has a twin brother," Draco said looking at his son with a gentle smile.

"Bring Us his twin," the Queen commanded.

Draco bowed his head then stood and backed away. He turned and took his second son and unwrapped him, again handing the blanket to Harry. He once again approached the Queen and knelt before her. Holding up his second son and looking at the Queen he repeated his request for blessing, "Great Queen of Our People, I present to You a child of my loins and ask of You to grant him Your blessing and allow him the touch of Your wisdom."

The Queen took the second baby and settled him on her lap next to his brother. A second set of grayish-blue eyes stared at her and a hand flailed out. She let the child hold her finger. Looking at the young father in front of her, she asked, "And what is the name of this child?"

"This child, my son, I have named Vitus Neville." Looking at his children, Draco missed the calculating look of the Queen as she evaluated him.

"You claim these infants as your children?" she demanded.

"Yes, My Queen," Draco said softly.

"Then let Us see if the spirits accept your claim," the Queen said and closed her eyes. Soon a small ball of light coalesced above Amandus, then a second above Vitus. The balls of magic pulsed lightly and began spinning slowly. They drew together then floated to Draco's left arm, melting into and circling his bicep in a simple tattoo: two wavy red lines that crossed each other, forming what appeared as a band of pointed ovals, topped by a straight band of green.

Whispering filled the court at the significance of the tattoo, although it really should have been expected. The two red lines represented twins. Unlike in humans where it was common enough and not indicative of anything, twins were born only to the most powerful Veela, those able to sustain two magical children until birth. Twin lines reflected well on Harry, of course, as the one with the power to perform such a feat, but also reflected well on Draco as the one chosen by such a powerful mate.

Red lines, instead of black, indicated children conceived during wartime. Veela were violent by nature but it was mostly in a protective capacity and they tended to not conceive the Veela way during wartime due to fear for their families. Red lines reflected well on Draco as it showed that his mate trusted his ability to protect him and his children during times of upheaval. War-time conception was more common than twins, but not by much.

The green line indicated a conception pregnancy. This showed that Harry, _subconsciously_, had felt protected enough immediately upon their bonding that his Veela magics had allowed him to become pregnant. Only ten percent of Veela couples had a conception pregnancy.

The tattoo, in all its simplistic glory, showed everyone just how completely he had earned Harry's trust and confidence. It would grant him a great deal of status among the Veela nation. He didn't even look at it.

The Queen watched as the young Malfoy only had eyes for his sons. She looked up to her newly found great-grandson who met her gaze with an expression of smugness. Draco looked up as the Queen laughed lightly.

"We would have thought, young Malfoy, that it would be _you _who would be the picture of smugness and your mate besotted and yet We find it is reversed," the Queen said in amusement.

Draco blushed lightly but said with a small smile, "He has been quite insufferable."

Harry didn't even bother to look embarrassed as he continued to stand there smugly.

The Queen laughed again. "May the Blessings of the Spirits by upon your children as they enter this life," she said, finishing the ceremony then carefully transferring the babies to Draco's hold. Indicating a waiting page, she commanded, "Take Our great-grandson and his mate and children and midwife to a guest suite."

Draco, recognizing that the Queen had just accepted him as the mate of a Prince of her line, bowed as much as he could while kneeling and holding two babies, then rose to return to Harry and Neville, rewrap the babies and give them to Neville, then follow the page out of the throne room.

It wasn't until five minutes later that Draco was able to express his opinion on his mate's little joke. "You could have warned me, you know," he said dryly.

"Where's the fun in that?" Harry said with a grin as he took Vitus from Neville.

"My great-grandfather knew, didn't he?" Draco asked. "I thought he'd been a bit twitchy ever since the dinner. Now I know why. The Malfoy family has always kept a low profile and now we'll be right in the spotlight for this."

"Yes," Harry acknowledged. "Grandfather revealed himself when they talked that night."

"Grandfather," Draco said with wide eyes, only just now putting together "grandfather" with "great-grandmother." The shock was obviously still running through his system if he was being this slow. "Merlin. Grandfather. The Queen's youngest child. Her only son."

Harry smirked. "Exactly."

"And you're his only descendent," Draco said, still stunned.

"Well, there was my mother, and now the babies," Harry said as he made himself comfortable in one of the chairs and cradled his baby. He absently noted that Neville followed suit with Amandus.

"Your mother. A bastard child," Draco murmured. "He didn't know, did he? That he had a daughter?"

Harry caressed his baby's face sadly. "No, he didn't know," Harry said softly. "Mum never told him. She was going to wait until after the war to explore that side of her family. I wish she hadn't."

"So do I," Draco said as he gazed at his sad mate. He stepped over to Harry and ran a finger across Vitus' forehead. "But then I might never have met you."

Harry smiled up at his mate. "I am happy with what I have now," he said. "But do not ever expect me to return to Britain, not even once the war is truly over. There are simply too many bad memories there."

"I won't," Draco agreed then smiled wryly. "At least now I know why you're so much more stubborn than a normal submissive. The blood of the Matriarchs runs through your veins."

Harry grinned. "I get it from both sides, I think. I've been told that my father was quite stubborn as well."

Draco snorted his amusement. "Figures," he said. "Are you going to keep the Potter name? I just presumed you were going to start using Potter-Malfoy, but if I'm remembering correctly you should never have been a Potter at all."

"True," Harry said with a shrug. "Both my mother and I should have had the Queen's name. If I'd been raised here as I should have I would have been known as Harry Delamater. At least, until I mated. Now I'll be Delamater-Malfoy. The babies are just Malfoy, though, because they're too far out to claim the Queen's name."

"That's fine," Draco said, still processing that he was mated to a Delamater in the first place. He shook his head and determined to change the subject. "I wonder how the rest of my family is handling this shocking revelation."

"I asked Hermione to watch your parents' expressions so we could see them later in a pensieve," Harry said slyly.

"Wonderful!" Draco said with a grin.

"Oh, I want to see that," Neville said eagerly.

Harry laughed and the three of them settled into comfortable conversation. Nothing was said, but all three knew they were waiting on the pleasure of the Queen. They would undoubtedly be summoned for a more thorough round of introductions and explanations.

--HPDM--

Robert followed his mother into her personal chambers, his father and four older sisters following him. When they had all entered the outer chambers and the door was closed, the Queen turned to her only son and said sternly, "You had best have some excellent reasons for your actions, Robert."

Robert took a seat in one of the chairs near the fireplace and watched as his immediate family spread out onto the remaining available seats. His eldest sister, the heiress to the Veela throne, was watching him with eyes narrowed in irritation. She was easily angered but slow to speak – she would wait a couple of days before giving him a piece of her mind for keeping secrets. His next two sisters were similar in temperament to each other and both obviously found the situation amusing – they would be the ones who would be most understanding. His last sister studied him intently as she tried to discern the reasons behind what he'd done – she would see the logic in his choices and support him. His father was curious and eager – a true family man, all he likely wanted was to go meet his new descendents and get explanations later. But his mother would have none of that…

"You know I do, Mother," Robert said calmly. "I would never keep such a thing secret without good reason. You know me."

Queen Émilie frowned at her offspring. "Yes, I do know you," she said. "I know that you will have your reasons and I may very well not agree with them."

Robert smiled slightly. "That's true. And, I'll admit, I kept silent in part so that we would not argue over what was best."

"The beginning, if you please, Robert," Émilie said firmly. "The _very_ beginning."

"When I was twenty-two I went to Britain for six months to study painting with Master Samuel," Robert said. "While I was there I took up a casual liaison with a local café waitress named Rebecca. I was unaware that she was an untrained witch. And when I left Britain I was unaware that she was pregnant. It's quite likely that Rebecca was unaware at that time as well, given the timing of my daughter's birth."

"And you left her no way to contact you," Émilie said disapprovingly.

"Why should I have?" Robert said reasonably. "It was a casual affair with no demands on either side. Our parting was amicable with no regrets and no expectations to ever see each other again. And, as I believed her to be a muggle, I had no reason to expect a child of our various unions."

"True enough," the Queen sighed. "And you never knew of your daughter?"

"No," Robert answered. "Never."

"Then how did you discover your grandson?" Émilie asked.

"I didn't," Robert said. "My grandson discovered me."

Émilie sighed again. "Robert, this is no time for brief answers."

"My apologies," Robert said with another slight smile. "Harry was given his parents' journals just before he left his third year of school. His godfather, Sirius Black, had received them, and many other things, in trust mere days before the murder of Lily and James Potter. Mr. Black gave them to Harry so Harry could get to know his parents. Harry chose to read his mother's journals first. Lily's journals are quite extensive and describe her life in depth from her tenth birthday, when she received her first journal, to just days before her death. One of the primary topics of her sixteenth year was her coming into her sexual maturity, though she didn't realize at first what had happened."

Robert paused as two servants delivered and served tea. When they had left, he continued his story. "Through the assistance of James Potter, Lily discovered what had happened to her and found that it was impossible that she was truly a muggle-born witch. At Christmas she confronted her mother with her knowledge and Rebecca told her daughter about being an untrained witch and also the affair she had had. Rebecca still remembered my name and Lily, who had read several books about Veela by that time, immediately recognized it."

"Why didn't she contact you?" Adrien asked his son.

It was Robert's turn to sigh. "Several reasons. She wrote often of her uncertainty of being of royal blood and what that might require of her. She thought it might require her to leave Hogwarts and she loved the school and wanted to finish her education there. So she decided to wait until after she graduated. Then she mated to James. Due to James' immense and sincere help, Lily had found herself more and more attracted to him. She was a strong woman in her own right, but she didn't have the experience or type of willpower necessary to survive long in Désespoir and mated with James a mere six weeks after entering it. James had responsibilities in Britain and didn't want to leave and Lily was afraid her responsibilities as a princess would take her away from James. And then there was the war."

"She could have been protected from the war here," Émilie said. "Did she think we would turn her away? Or her mate and son?"

Robert shook his head. "Both Lily and James were part of a group that was fighting against Voldemort at that time. They both felt it was wrong to abandon their home country."

"While I understand the sentiment, these reasons all seem rather spurious," Émilie said with a frown.

"I agree," Robert said. "I think it comes down to that, while it was a nice fairytale, being a royal, with all that entailed, was not something Lily wanted. Not for herself, and not for her son. Nevertheless, she did plan to contact me once the war was over. Both her mother and adopted father, as well as James' parents, were dead from the war and she wanted Harry to have at least one grandparent."

Émilie closed her eyes in annoyance and sorrow. She'd lost a grandchild she'd never even known about and her great-grandchild… Well, she knew a great deal about current affairs and knew that the young man's life had been far from decent, much less ideal. "Was James Potter a good mate?" Émilie asked.

"He seemed to be," Robert said. "Lily seemed happy with him."

"And was Harry a human pregnancy? Is that why he was never brought for Blessing?" Émilie asked.

"Yes," Robert confirmed. "He was born at St. Mungo's, attended by the Potter family healer, who had been sworn to secrecy about Lily's heritage. Also, they knew Harry was a half-Veela but made sure that information didn't make it onto his birth certificate."

"And Harry? What does he think of his position in our society?" Émilie asked intently.

"He is pleased to embrace his responsibilities, whatever they may be for an x-male prince so far down the line of succession he might as well not carry the title," Robert said with a smile.

"Does he realize that his children will not carry the title of prince, being four generations out from the throne as they are?" Émilie asked curiously.

"Yes," Robert said. "During the time he's spent with me I've been teaching him the things he needs to know as a prince: etiquette, styles, our language, everything I could. With instruction tailored to his needs and sufficient and appropriate praise, Harry is a quick and avid learner. His Hogwarts years have truly done him a disservice as far as his education is concerned. There is still much he needs to learn, however, as the time we've had for his lessons has been woefully insufficient."

Émilie waved that comment aside. "We can address that later. He contacted you that summer?"

"He did," Robert said then chuckled. "Imagine my surprise when I received his letter explaining everything he'd learned and asking if I might be interested in initiating correspondence. Of course I said yes."

"And why did you not bring him here at that time?" Émilie asked with a stern look.

"I should have," Robert said sadly. "I should have. I think I could have convinced him if I'd tried. If I had claimed him right away then the last four years would have been much different. As it was, we were unsure of each other for several months and then his name came out of the Goblet of Fire the Halloween of his fourth year and he was required to participate in that tournament."

"And after the tournament was over?" Émilie asked sharply. "Why not then?"

"I did bring him to my estate," Robert defended himself. "He spent the summer with me, only occasionally returning to his relatives for a few minutes to reposition the construct one of my guards made for him."

"That is not the answer I'm looking for, Robert," Émilie said harshly.

Robert grimaced slightly. This was the part he knew his mother wouldn't like. "Harry did not wish it. He was frightened that Voldemort would cause problems for the Veela nation if he found out that his nemesis was a Veela prince. I tried to convince Harry that the Veela nation was perfectly capable of defending itself, but he was adamant. He'd had little enough choice allowed in his life and I did not wish to force him."

Émilie was quiet several moments. "I see," she said. "I do not agree."

"I knew you wouldn't," Robert admitted. "It's why I didn't tell you."

"Why now?" Clara, the youngest daughter, asked softly. "If you've kept the secret all this time, why reveal it now?"

"I eventually convinced Harry to promise to reveal himself when his first children were born," Robert answered proudly, thinking of the little babies. "Of course, we didn't expect that to happen for some years yet. His plans were to mate, leave Hogwarts, travel, then have children."

"You would have kept this secret for years to come?" Émilie asked disapprovingly.

"Yes," Robert said.

"I do not agree," Émilie said again.

"I know," Robert said.

"Well, there is nothing for it but to go forward," Émilie said briskly. "I wish for him to stay here at the palace for a time while we determine what he is best suited for in regards to service to the Crown…"

--HPDM--

A knock sounded on the door and the still-attending servant looked to Harry for approval before answering it. Harry nodded and the servant opened the door, allowing entry to a man that Draco finally recognized.

"Hello, Grandfather," Harry said with a grin but didn't rise.

"Hello, Harry," Robert said with a smile while waving at Neville to stay seated.

"Your Highness," Draco said wryly and bowed respectfully. To think he had argued architecture with this man just yesterday, completely unknowing his full identity.

Robert laughed. "Draco. Have you recovered from your shock?"

"Not quite yet, I don't think," Draco said with a short laugh. "It took me over five minutes to figure out who you are."

"Well, you'll have until tonight to pull yourself together," Robert said in amusement. "My mother the Queen wishes to visit with you."

"At Her convenience," Draco said with a nod.

"Are you in trouble with great-grandmother?" Harry asked worriedly.

"She is somewhat upset with me," Robert admitted with a reassuring smile. "However, she has quite the soft spot for new babies. I expect to be forgiven by morning."

Harry smiled in relief while Neville and Draco both chuckled. "What about the others?" he asked.

"Hermione returned to her people. Gregory and Vincent returned to the Malfoy Estates for now along with Draco's family. Pansy is currently with Giselle, waiting for your summons." Robert reported.

"How did they react?" Harry asked with a sidelong glance at Draco and Neville. "Did you see?"

Robert laughed in bright amusement. "Oh, yes. I saw," he said. Robert turned to Draco with a smirk and said, "You will be pleased to know that your mother fainted dead away."

"She did?" Draco asked eagerly. "Your Highness."

Robert waved off the honorific and took a seat next to Neville and peered at little Amandus. "She did. And your father looked decidedly…pale."

Draco grinned vindictively. "Good," he purred. "I'm _so_ glad they could make it."

"Bets on how fast this gets back to Dumbledore?" Harry asked with a chuckle.

Neville snorted his own amusement. "It's been over an hour," he said with a smirk. "One hundred galleons says he knows already."

This time it was Harry's turn to grin vindictively. "Now he will know that he cannot touch me _ever again_. Between the Queen and the Malfoy family, I am safe from him _forever_."

"He will not be happy," Robert said warningly. "He will try to get you to return. You know what is at stake."

"Let him try," Harry said darkly.

All four men smiled grimly at the thought of the fight to come.

--HPDM--

Pansy had been summoned for lunch and with her came Giselle, his second cousin, and her baby. And so started the family introductions.

Draco and Neville had both become somewhat overwhelmed at the steady procession of Harry's relatives. First cousins, second cousins, once, twice, and three times removed. Elders, contemporaries, children, and babies. Great-great aunts and uncles. Then Harry's great-aunts, Robert's sisters, had dropped by followed closely by their father. Of them all, Harry let only his great-grandfather actually hold the babies. No one took offense; it would be a year before Harry wasn't quite so possessive of his babies.

Adrien was still in their suite feeding Vitus when the Queen arrived slightly before dinner. Draco, Neville, and Pansy, currently baby-less, immediately dropped to one knee. Harry, also baby-less, rose and bowed deeply. Adrien and Robert rose and nodded, being sure to keep the babies' bottles properly positioned.

"Rise," the Queen said. She glanced around at the occupants, her gaze resting on Pansy for several moments then on Neville before finally settling on Harry.

Harry smiled happily and said, "Great-grandmother, may I introduce my daughter, Pansy Parkinson?"

"Daughter?" the Queen said in surprise.

"We did the ceremony in December after Draco and I mated," Harry said, knowing that the full story would be told later. "And this is Neville Longbottom, Head of Longbottom House. He and Pansy will wed in August and together they are the godparents of Amandus and Vitus."

The Queen acknowledged the introductions and dinner was spent in casual – such as it could be with a Queen at your table – conversation and passing around the now sleeping babies.

Queen Émilie spent a good amount of time asking Neville about how he had come into his role as midwife. Neville stuttered a bit at first but eventually calmed and answered the Queen's questions. The Queen seemed pleased with Neville's responses and turned her attention to Pansy and the story there. Pansy had haltingly told of her early life, information which she still hadn't yet shared with her fiancé or newly adopted father. Everyone was appropriately appalled and infuriated then pleased and grateful at Draco's subsequent actions. Then the talk had turned to Harry.

"What do you plan to do about Voldemort?" Émilie asked curiously. She knew how Britain viewed her great-grandson and was certain they would look to him to once again save them from their Dark Lord.

"Absolutely nothing," Harry said firmly.

"The British will look to you as their savior from that mad wizard," Émilie said just to be a devil's advocate. She was quite pleased that her great-grandson planned to leave the fighting to those who didn't have little babies to care for.

"I know," Harry said then shrugged. "I don't care."

"It is your homeland," Émilie said.

"Is it?" Harry asked with a bitter laugh. "I lived so close to London and yet I have never seen Big Ben or Buckingham Palace. I've never walked along The Strand or seen the Thames. I've never been to Westminster or Stonehenge. Until I was eleven I'd never been farther away from the Dursleys' house than the four blocks to the local school. Well, except for one trip to the zoo, which I wouldn't have gone on if Mrs. Figg hadn't broken her leg that morning. The Dursleys certainly didn't want me there."

"And where have I been in magical Britain? Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, the Burrow, the World Cup once, the Ministry. Big deal. I've never seen any of their big landmarks, either. The house of Wendelin the Weird? No. Chadwick Zoo? Not until Draco took me for our date. Harpy Stadium? No. I've seen more of France, muggle and wizard, in the time I've spent here with Grandfather than I have of Britain the entire rest of my life."

"No, Britain is not my homeland," Harry said sadly. "If I can claim any country, it would be France. _Here_ is where most of my family lives. _Here_ is where my new home is located. _Here_ is where I will be staying. Not Britain."

Everyone was quiet after Harry's impassioned speech.

"I am very sorry to hear that," Émilie said softly. "Still, I would have thought that Dumbledore would have trained you to believe that it was your responsibility to save everybody." Had Robert convinced his grandson that the responsibility of the world _didn't_ actually rest upon him?

"Oh, he did," Harry said with a grim smile. "He was successful, too; not even Grandfather could convince me that I should leave Britain to its own devices. But then he made a big mistake."

Émilie's eyebrows rose at that. "And what was that?"

"He told me the prophecy involving me and Voldemort," Harry said with eyes narrowed in anger. "The very prophecy upon which he'd been basing all of his actions regarding the coming war."

"That's a dangerous thing to do," Émilie said slowly. "Prophecy can be easily misinterpreted."

Harry laughed mirthlessly. "So it can. And so he did. Although, I think his misinterpretation is more from a desperate desire to not see it fulfilled than any true lack of understanding."

"Will you tell us the words of this prophecy?" Émilie asked. She noted, however, that only she and her mate seemed unaware of the prophecy.

So Harry relayed the first stanza of the prophecy to all those in attendance. "Dumbledore believes that I am the only one who can defeat Voldemort for good."

"It does seem a likely interpretation," Émilie said reluctantly. "You don't agree, obviously, if the prophecy was what turned your from Dumbledore's guidance?"

Harry nodded. "I do…did…believe that it was talking about me. However, it only took me a couple of hours before I also believed that I had already fulfilled it and therefore any continuing involvement on my part was unnecessary. I'd done my vanquishing and if Dumbledore wanted somebody to fight against Voldemort then he'd have to look elsewhere. The man had just cost me my godfather because of his secrets, in addition to everything else he had already cost me, and I wanted nothing to do with him."

"And now?" Adrien asked softly.

Harry looked to his grandfather for reassurance and returned the smile he was given. "It is the same now. I want nothing to do with him. I want nothing to do with their war, at least directly. I never again want to so much as set foot in Britain." Harry paused then added hesitantly, "There's more, though. There's more to the prophecy than he originally told me. I learned it from one of the Unspeakable that had a date with me."

"Tell them," Draco said softly and took Harry's hand. He flared his magic across their bond and was rewarded with a thankful smile and a hand-squeeze.

Harry spoke the rest of the prophecy he'd memorized over a year ago and continued on to tell all that he knew about its interpretation. Discussion was held long into the night about the prophecy and its repercussions and what could be done to help without risking the lives of Veela citizens.

--Order--

Ginny, Fred, and George shared a look before they entered the floo to go to Grimmauld Place. They were all glad for Harry – they found the situation funny, in fact, given the teasing they'd engaged in at Christmas – but that didn't mean they were looking forward to being questioned about what they had just witnessed. They all took fortifying breaths and went to meet their fate.

George was the last through the floo and was immediately engulfed in a hug when he arrived at headquarters. "Mum!" he tried to protest, knowing it was futile.

Molly finished her fussing and ushered her children down to the kitchen. "Everybody's here. We all want to know what happened! How is Harry? How are the babies? Are they boys or girls? What are their names? Did you get a chance to talk to Harry?"

"Mum!" Ginny cried in exasperation. "At least let us sit down before starting the interrogation!"

It was less than five minutes later when the three were ensconced in chairs with cups of tea steaming in front of them and more than a dozen people staring at them in varying degrees of eagerness and impatience.

Ginny rolled her eyes and started the report. "Harry had two baby boys. The oldest one is named Amandus Robert and the younger one is Vitus Neville. They looked healthy to me."

"Not James or Sirius?" Arthur asked in surprise.

Ginny shared a glance with her twin brothers. "No. Robert is, uh, the name of Harry's grandfather and Neville is…was…the, uh, midwife."

The exclamations of the Order were split between surprise over "midwife" and shock over "grandfather."

"What else were you able to discover?" Albus asked, jubilant to finally know at least part of the name of Harry's grandfather.

Ginny bit her lip and gazed at Fred and George. She'd started out the report, one of them needed to take over.

Fred shifted slightly and said, "We found out that Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy didn't know anything about their son courting or winning Harry but that the rest of the Malfoys did. And we know that Harry's Veela genes ultimately came from his grandfather."

"Did you discover his last name?" Albus asked eagerly. He'd address the Malfoy comment later.

Ginny and Fred looked at George. George scowled at his siblings for leaving him the hard part. "Harry…that is Robert…I mean…" George stopped and took a deep breath. "Harry's Veela genes come from his grandfather, Prince Robert Delamater, son of Queen Émilie Delamater. Harry is now Prince Harry Delamater-Malfoy."

There was silence at the pronouncement until Moody gave a loud laugh. The harsh sound galvanized the rest of the Order into more noisy comments and exclamations. Molly shrieked her surprise and looked on the verge of fainting from hyperventilation and Arthur was too stunned to attend her. It was this clamor that Albus used to hide his distress.

He'd hoped that Alastor was wrong. He'd hoped that there was still some way to convince Harry to help in the war. He'd hoped to break the second stanza of the prophecy and prevent the destruction of Britain. He'd hoped so badly. And now there was no hope. The Veela Queen never let her titled descendents participate in foreign wars. Never.

Albus closed his eyes and fought off the overwhelming sense of despair that threatened to engulf him. He must remain strong. Perhaps there were yet things he could do to save his homeland.

--Voldemort--

Lucius and Severus were still furious with each other over what they believed to be the other's failings in regards to Draco. They were, however, quite united on the opinion that Harry Potter must die a horrible and awful death, preferably after weeks of humiliating torture administered by none other than themselves. Their reasons for such daydreams were different, though.

Severus saw Potter's new station as a personal affront. The brat didn't deserve to be of such high station! Once again Potter was being given something without having to put forth any effort whatsoever. Severus conveniently dismissed the fact that the title of Prince wasn't _given_ to Harry Potter but simply described what he _was_ by birth. Severus also conveniently forgot that all titled Veela _worked_, in one fashion or another, for their privileges; the Matriarchs had never condoned laziness.

Lucius was incensed about the public humiliation of a Malfoy. How dare Potter embarrass Draco like that! How dare he shame the Malfoy family! Lucius ignored the reality that nobody he'd seen at the Blessing had thought any less of Draco and, in fact, had been impressed that Draco had managed to keep his calm as well as he had. Lucius also ignored the fact that, far from being shamed, the Malfoy family, with the mating of one their members into the Delamater line, had now garnered the interest of quite a number of well-placed and very important personages.

It was these thoughts that swirled in their minds as they knelt before Voldemort and gave their report. They both expected Voldemort to be furious and also that they wouldn't be leaving without a few curses being cast their way. They were wrong, though.

Voldemort listened to his servants' descriptions of the morning's events. Then he laughed. And laughed. And laughed some more when he saw the terror on the faces of those in attendance.

"So, Potter is a Veela Prince, is he? How fortunate," Voldemort hissed.

"My Lord?" Lucius questioned hesitantly.

"Don't you see, Lucius? This is great news!" Voldemort crowed. "You are to cease your hunt of your son immediately. Let Draco keep Potter occupied."

"I…don't understand, My Lord," Lucius said, disappointed at the command.

"Really, Lucius, how can you not see the benefit of this?" Voldemort asked condescendingly. "Harry Potter is part of the Veela Royal Family. The Royal Family always stays out of wizarding wars. Therefore, Harry Potter will stay out of the war. We have won and we didn't need to do anything! You will leave him and your son alone."

"Yes, My Lord," Lucius said reluctantly.

"You as well, Severus," Voldemort ordered.

"Yes, My Lord," Severus acknowledged just as reluctantly as Lucius.

"Spread the word," Voldemort said to everyone in the room. "Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are to be left alone. Our goals will be better served if Potter is kept running after babies instead of sticking his nose into our business. Anyone who disobeys me will become test subjects for the General. Is this clear?"

There was general murmuring of assent throughout the room and Voldemort went back to silently smirking his pleasure over the situation. Events couldn't have turned out better if he'd planned them himself.

--end chapter--

Because I've been asked a few times…

My imagination of what a Veela looks like is mostly human with some changes. Such changes include:

_Head_ – turns into what you think of on birds, with feathers and beak and eyes shifted more outwards to either side, the feathers stop around the neck area. The bits that linger in human form are not visible but still allow for things like the increased scenting ability or the ability to screech.

_Wings_ – they look impressive, maybe five feet across each, but could not bear the weight of the Veela because 1) the bones remain human; birds have hollow bones for a reason and 2) they'd be _huge_! If you need an 8 feet wingspan to lift a 20 pound bird, what would you need for a 140 pound person?

_Cloaca_ – an extra bit/slit between the genitals and anus for both the females and x-males that, unlike the above two, is ever-present; this is to accommodate Veela pregnancies – you can't have your reproductive bits disappear and reappear like your wings if you've got babies to carry and deliver. Upon consideration, perhaps this disappears when the organs are in stasis between mating and first conception and between birth and new conception…

_Claws_ – think…talons, but only on the hands, not the feet. If you've ever held even a parakeet on your bare wrist, you know that those little claws are _sharp_ buggers

_Babies Names:  
_Amandus – lovable, Roman  
Vitus – life, Roman


	33. Eiplogue aka Dusk to Dawn

**Updated June 10 -** error fixed regarding Lavender's babies (cookies to tati1); notes added regarding The General and Minerva

A/N: Many, many thanks to DLRP, RRRII, and JW for their encouragement on this chapter. I found myself ill after I posted chapter 32 and was not feeling better in any appreciable way until late Sunday evening. It is these people you have to thank that I didn't simply post, "Twenty years later the King comes and everything is hunky-dorky. Fill in the blanks." I tried to work on this while I was ill and I really shouldn't have as it just made me severely frustrated since I was drugged up most of the time and couldn't concentrate for dragon dung. Once I was feeling better, I was able to finish the chapter in the day and a half I had originally thought I would need. The betas then got their hands on it last night and I fixed the last bits this morning.

I've downloaded my e-mail for the last week and have seriously contemplated hiding in a corner and whimpering in fear. Yikes, those things breed when you're not looking! In the interest of getting this chapter posted, I have not read any of the reviews or PMs that I've received since the last chapter. I usually like to read them first – I like to credit people with figuring things out or giving me inspiration to add things – but I just know it's going to take me all day to get through them and I didn't want to delay any more. So, yeah, if you've sent questions recently, or even inquiries about my health (which DH says he's seen and I greatly appreciate), I do promise to get to them today or tomorrow.

I don't particularly like most of this chapter – probably the residual frustration talking – but my betas assure me that it's just fine. I imagine you the readers will also come down on one side or another of this split. Some will be like me and not be totally satisfied and others will be like my betas and like it fine. All shall be in balance, I guess.

This is probably the fifth rewrite of this chapter. It's surprisingly hard to destroy a nation semi-realistically, just in case you were wondering… The arguments and discussions this chapter engendered between me and my betas… (snort) Some, or many, of you may be disappointed in the depiction of the decline of Britain in this chapter. I am sorry for that, but this story was never meant to be about the horrors that accompany war and, especially, genocide. This story was meant to be mostly about Harry's courtship, the birth of his first children, and the revelations about his heritage. The epilogue about his son assuming his destiny was always meant to be brief. Of course, brief seems to be a relative term… The epilogue is at least five times the length I'd originally envisioned.

I have a _bunch_ of notes at the end of the story. Read or not as you please. They are answers to questions I received in reviews that I couldn't find a place for in the story. I will likely be adding to this section over the next day or two before I mark the story as complete. I do not plan on a sequel. If you are interested in doing so, or in just writing a missing scene, please let me know. I am not against adding an "omakes" chapter later or links to your efforts in my profile.

_**Cookies for everyone!**_  
To everyone whose review I didn't answer personally – Thank you all! I was quite overwhelmed at times with the response to my story. I had some wine the night I hit a shocking 1,000. Just, wow.

_General information about population/area:_

Wikipedia put the population of the Isles at 65 million and the area as 121,673 square miles. I'm using a 1/2000 ratio and claiming 32 thousand magicals. So, you know, not completely PFA'd.

**Chapter 33 – Epilogue (aka Dusk to Dawn)**

--1998--

Draco and Harry spent the remainder of the year at the Palace. Their days were spent caring for the babies, meeting relatives, alternately ignoring and planning for the war that was now in full swing, and determining what would be their duties to the Crown.

The Royal Ward-Master was sent to Draco and Harry's home to evaluate what needed to be done to ensure the new family's security while residing there. The man had returned and promptly closeted himself with the Royal Architect. The next morning Draco had found himself the official apprentice of both men, the recipient of quite a large salary, and politely and eagerly requested to teach his techniques to both his new master's people. Draco, dumbfounded, had simply nodded and gotten to work learning and teaching.

Harry continued to take lessons from his grandfather on all those things he would have been taught had he grown up in the Palace. He also spent a great deal of time with various family members, especially his great-grandfather with whom he had formed an almost instant rapport. Time was also set aside for refusing the numerous letters Albus Dumbledore sent begging Harry to return and with Gaius to plan the tracking nets they were going to erect. Most of his time, though, was spent possessively watching over his babies.

Gregory and Vincent spent their time with the Veela Royal Guard. While the Queen had been sympathetic towards the young men and the discharging of their vassal oaths, she refused to have any member of her family, and by default their mate, guarded by anybody less trained than the Royal Guard. Greg and Vin were ecstatic with the opportunity, if exhausted nearly every day.

Hermione threw herself completely into her new position and visited about once a month. She kept Harry up-to-date on the status of magical Britain and how many secrets her people had managed to hide. Hermione had also spoken to Gaius after the birth of the babies and arranged with him to take in the soon-to-be eleven-year-old muggle-borns found by her seers before they could receive their Hogwarts letters. It was quite the puzzle in Britain that year why there were no new muggle-born students coming to Hogwarts. Gaius and Hermione just smirked and made plans for future years.

Pansy and Neville married in August. The outcry was enormous. However, far from becoming outcast as she'd feared, Pansy found herself invited to more social engagements than ever before as the gossipers from both light and dark sides tried to ply her for information. She carried an emergency portkey with her everywhere, but attended as many events as she could. Pansy put her skills to good use and collected great amounts of information, which she faithfully passed on to Hermione for the Unspeakables, Gaius for the Malfoy family, and Draco for the Veela Queen. Neville was invited to a greater number of engagements as well, but had to decline most invitations as in September he started attending Andromeda's School of Plants in Greece. Pansy continued to remodel their manor and in December the couple announced that they were expecting their first child.

Voldemort's new General started the campaign against the muggles with a terrifying bang. On September 26 he supervised the flawless destruction of a sold-out concert in Wembley Stadium – over 80,000 people met their deaths that night. After that attack the General started widespread guerrilla attacks. Every month from October to December the General organized devastating raids in muggle Britain. Three unfortunate towns had had their fire and police stations razed, major access-ways destroyed, and hundreds of magical fires set all about town that started firestorms. Deaths from the three attacks totaled nearly 15,000 with another 45,000 displaced. The attacks were all extremely well organized and lasted no more than ten minutes start to finish and, as a result, the muggles, the Ministry, and Dumbledore's Order were unable to anticipate, mitigate, or stop any of the attacks. The only thing the wizards could do was assist in stopping the magical fires.

Wizards living within magical areas – most of Britain's magical citizens – were nervous but still complacent as none of _them_ had been hurt. The protests of the muggle-borns were generally ignored. Unless something drastic changed, wizard analysts worldwide were predicting humongous losses for muggle Britain.

--1999--

January saw Albus Dumbledore make accusations against the Veela nation about keeping Harry away from his homeland. Most of the British wizards believed the allegations and sentiments against the Veela rose dramatically. In response, the Veela Queen ordered the siege wards to be raised. It would be a year-long effort to completely protect the heart of the Veela nation, but it would be done before any damage could be accomplished by those foolish enough to attempt retribution.

In February there was a kidnapping attempt against Harry while he was visiting Spain. Every one of the attackers was killed, and none were marked, and so it was impossible to determine whether the assault had been ordered by Voldemort or Dumbledore. Draco had taken major exception and had assisted the guards in the destruction of the assailants. Harry's Veela magic obviously took the incident as proof of its mate's ability to protect home and family and initiated a second pregnancy. Draco and Harry were far from pleased with the timing, but what could they do?

In March Voldemort made another major attack, killing nearly 20,000 muggles during a ten-minute long attack on Heathrow. Air traffic was immediately grounded all across the nation. In April, the Channel Tunnel was attacked and collapsed from the center, killing an additional 1,500 as the sea flooded the tunnel. The muggles were frantic to find the "terrorists" that were wreaking such destruction. Nothing they did, though, brought forth any success. The muggle-born wizards that had attended Hogwarts were raising a fuss about fighting Voldemort, but most British wizards still did not much care. After all, while the death of so many was certainly tragic, it was like reading about a devastating earthquake on the other side of the planet: an interesting news item but of no great impact to their own daily lives.

The fidelius spell was published in _The Prophet_ in June. Unfortunately, only about one person in two thousand had the power to cast the spell and most people didn't trust others to cast the spell for them. There were simply too many people who remembered the betrayal of the Potters and didn't feel the cost of casting the spell was outweighed by any benefit they might receive. The Malfoys didn't agree and immediately set about protecting the properties of their British vassals – nearly 2,000 estates. With nearly 30,000 vassals worldwide, the Malfoy family had access to 16 people able to cast the spell – they were all set to work.

August saw the birth of another set of Veela boys to Harry and Draco that the couple named Evander and Timeus. They were exactly one week older than Pansy's and Neville's first child, Franklin. Lavender and Liam left Britain for a home in France and become godparents to all three babies.

Hermione visited her parents in September, made her peace with them, and convinced them to move to Australia. Also in September, Luna bore her first and only child, a girl she named Regina. The father was a fellow Ravenclaw graduate that Luna had allowed to impregnate her at the Ravenclaw's New Year's party – he had been too drunk to remember what he'd done and Luna never told him.

The months they weren't attacking major targets, the Death Eaters attacked more random towns. Another dozen towns were destroyed by December – another 60,000 died with another 200,000 being displaced. Voldemort's success spurred recruitment to his cause and nearly one hundred new Death Eaters were initiated by December. With no progress on finding the perpetrators, the muggle citizenry started to emigrate. The muggle-born wizards forced their families to leave and left themselves. But the wizard-raised continued to be complacent.

Hermione pulled more of her people from active Ministry service and her secrets reached a little over 5,600 by the New Year.

--2000--

The Malfoys finished protecting their vassals by the end of January and offered their services to Liam and Neville. Both men took them up on it and soon the Cadbury's and Longbottom's homes were also secreted away. Neville subsequently ordered his family to move their finances out of Britain. None of them were happy, but he laced his command with the magics of the family Head and they were forced to obey. He told them to be grateful that he'd given them four years to comply with his will. Liam wasn't head of the Cadbury family, but he, too, was moving his investments abroad and would be finished by the end of the year.

January also saw the siege wards of the Veela nation finally fully raised and the majority of the Veela population moved behind them. Several other sentient species had followed the Veela Queen's urgings and had also raised, or started to raise, their own wards. So far, Voldemort's new General had left the other races alone. It was a sound strategic decision, too, as the non-wizard races felt that the wizards should take care of their own problem and refused to get involved unless directly threatened.

To the annoyance of Harry and Draco, the completion of the siege wards initiated Harry's third pregnancy and July saw the birth of Constantine and Galenus to Harry and Draco. Draco's favorite cousin, Flavian, and his wife Greta became the godparents. Lavender's first child, Jasmine, had been born in February and the two were frequent visitors to Harry's and Draco's home.

In January the General instigated a new policy amongst the Death Eaters: every marked minion was now required to spend two hours every day wreaking general destruction with the attacks – after reconnaissance – to be in no more than two minute increments. The Death Eaters attacked randomly – both in time and place – with favored targets being the planes and boats attempting to take muggle citizens out of the country. And the attacks to destroy random towns also continued, only now they happened every other week.

In June, Hogwarts had had the idea to send out invitations to every muggle-born student in their book, regardless of age, in an effort to protect the magical children. They were shocked, despite the lack of muggle-born students the last two years, when not a single muggle-born student could be contacted. Gaius and Hermione just smirked when they heard the news.

December saw several diverse celebrations. The Unspeakables celebrated the hiding of Buckingham Palace and its surrounds – along with its inhabitants – mere minutes before the Death Eaters came to attack. Their secrets now reached 6,500. Gregory and Vincent celebrated the successful completion of their training and the acquisition of their ICW bodyguard licenses. Hermione announced her intimate relationship with the Weasley twins – to which nearly everyone laughed hysterically while Hermione rolled her eyes and Fred and George smirked their superiority.

And the Death Eaters celebrated the death of four million muggles.

--2001--

Harry published his first volume of essays on the comparative magics of different countries in January and it was extremely well received. Most of the accolades were based neither on his "Boy Who Lived" title nor his station as Prince and Harry was pleased. Unfortunately, so were his magics. Draco and Harry merely sighed and spent an evening snuggling when they realized in February that Harry was pregnant once again.

As per their expectations, Harry was carrying a human boy and a half-Veela girl. No one knew what that meant for delivery, a mixed birth having never happened before. Harry devoutly wished that it didn't mean he'd have to lay twice. He got his wish, and both his children were born in August. Aurelia appeared fine even being born a month late. There was concern over Victor, as he was two months premature. The little King seemed fine, though, and there was much rejoicing. Hermione and her Weasley lovers became the godparents.

In Britain, Alastor Moody had been engaged in a battle against a contingent of Death Eaters taking their time on the destruction of a small Scottish town. He'd suddenly lost focus and stumbled, the fall to his knees being the only thing that saved his life. The Order members with him grabbed their fallen comrade and left the scene, there simply being too many Death Eaters to win this round. Try as they might, though, no one could wake Alastor from his fugue. He woke on his own less than an hour later, however, with a big grin on his face. He had witnessed the birth of his King! The jubilation he felt more than offset the news that he'd lost his left ear from the spell that had clipped him as he fell.

Less than forty miles away from Alastor, Luna smiled and showed her two-year-old daughter how to hold a wand.

The Death Eaters – now nearing 150 – continued their generalized rampage. Twenty here, a hundred there, forty in another place, it all added up so quickly. And the muggles remained trapped as the transports leaving the country continued to be favored targets – when there were even pilots willing to risk their lives on such uncertain success. The Ministry and the Order could not respond to the hundreds of two-minute attacks each day and so continued to be of little effect in stopping the Death Eaters. More than one wizard believed the aurors shouldn't bother, either, since it was "only" muggles.

Magical Ministries of other countries offered assistance, but were rebuffed. Still, some sent investigators clandestinely – only to discover what the British Ministry already knew: there was nothing to find that would help and the attacks were too lightening quick to counter. Even protecting the favored targets of boats and planes was too large of a task to undertake in any effective way.

Hermione's secrets reached 7,300 by year's end and the muggle deaths were just shy of seven million.

--2002--

The Ides of March saw the first attack within British cities. The early morning destruction of exactly five hundred different high-rise apartment buildings throughout the Isles cost the lives of several hundred thousand more muggles. Everywhere in the Isles there was destruction. There simply weren't enough resources, much less organization, to clean up the fallen buildings as well as retrieve and deal with the bodies. Other muggle governments had sent military support to help protect the citizens – at least until that effort, too, was shown to be fruitless. Not even the military units could do anything against an enemy that kept itself invisible until launching its attack then promptly disappeared to launch an attack elsewhere. All private pilots now refused to risk their lives on an attempt to land in Britain and the muggle governments followed suit. Supply drops were made every day, but no new personnel were sent to the afflicted country to die pointlessly.

Smaller towns continued to be attacked and after one of the attacks in April Harry received a box from Hermione. The accompanying letter revealed that the Dursleys had been killed when visiting Marge and the box held the heirlooms from Rebecca Evans that had been in the Dursley home. Harry appreciated the thought but was all for burning the box and its contents – he had way too bad many memories of having been required to obsessively dust the things to want to keep them, heirlooms or not. Draco stepped in, however, and claimed the children might be interested in their heritage. Harry reluctantly promised not to hunt down the box and destroy it – as long as he never saw it again. To calm Harry Draco called Pansy to the estate and Valerie – Pansy's and Neville's new baby that had been born in March – successfully diverted Harry's attention while Draco hid the box.

By December, Hermione's secrets reach 8,000. Death Eater recruitment topped 200 and muggle deaths reached nearly eleven million. Foreign wizards were making preparations to protect their homelands, but the lackadaisical British wizards, predictably, continued to ignore the destruction. After all, it wasn't _them_ getting injured, now was it?

--2003--

Neville graduated from Andromeda's the top of his class and was grateful. Antoinette's, his original choice, had folded due to financial instability caused by embezzlement and mismanagement a mere three months before. To have gotten so close to his mastery only to be thwarted at the last moment would have been devastating. He'd been expecting it – his letter requesting answers had asked why Antoinette's had been forbidden in the marriage contract and he'd received his answer – but the remaining Longbottom family had been shocked as they discovered, finally, why the requirement had been placed in the betrothal contract. Neville merely rolled his eyes at his family. And, as per the contract, he went to work for the Malfoy family as a manager trainee in one of their businesses to learn how to effectively manage his own business, should he eventually choose to start one.

A mere month after Neville's graduation, both Harry and Neville moved the last of their families' moneys and investments out of Britain.

In September, the wizard authorities managed to capture a Death Eater. Nothing was gleaned from the interrogation, however, as the first question under veritaserum had killed the prisoner. Examination revealed an unbreakable vow – probably for silence – had exacted its price.

December saw a macabre celebration by the Death Eaters. Instead of attacking small towns as they were wont to do, they attacked Cardiff, the capital of Wales. The Death Eaters set fire upon fire upon fire upon fire and in twenty minutes had successfully created a vicious firestorm that not even the wizard authorities could stop. It took two days for most of the city and its occupants – unable to leave due to the destruction of the surrounding roads – to become ash and rubble.

Hermione's secrets reached 9,000 and muggle deaths nearly sixteen million.

--2004--

Attacks against muggles continued, but intelligence reported it was done simply as entertainment and to continue to discourage foreign evacuation assistance. Much of Voldemort's efforts were now centered on making all muggle-free zones unplottable as well as repellent to all without a Dark Mark.

Draco earned his Mastery in wards in January. It was a significant event and everyone waited for the announcement of a new pregnancy for Harry, especially since it had been nearly two and half years since the birth of his last children. All were surprised when Harry didn't, in fact, get pregnant. Harry and Draco were relieved; they loved all their children, but were glad Fate seemed done with them being born so close together.

The last of the Longbottoms removed their personal finances from Britain in August and Neville promptly ordered his family to stay within secreted properties or shop in mainland Europe from now on. They were unhappy, but this time they asked why. Only some of them believed him when he told them that Voldemort was going to start attacked magical citizens soon.

New Year's Eve saw the last secret – Hogwarts – hidden by the Unspeakables. There was relief and triumph that night, even as there was sadness as the Isles' loss of population – through death and successful emigration – reached nearly a third.

--2005--

Voldemort quickly discovered the loss of Hogwarts. He then discovered that several other sites of historical, if not truly practical, importance were also missing. Everyone, on both sides of the conflict, had thought Buckingham Palace to be a unique occurrence and hadn't bothered checking for anything else unusual.

Voldemort was enraged at the loss of his ultimate goal and sought vengeance. Diagon Alley was destroyed, utterly, the first of February. The true target had been Gringotts – which had been successfully reduced to white rubble – and so the rest of The Great Square was left alone. The Goblins didn't care – they'd all quickly evacuated, none had been killed, and the entrances to their home caves were now sealed. They'd let the wizards finish their fight before returning.

The Death Eaters weren't affected by the closing of the bank as they'd all been advised to keep their funds elsewhere. The rest of magical Britain, however, finally realized just what their complacency had brought them. Most magical families found themselves struggling to simply eat as the economy instantly collapsed. Stubbornness reared its head, though, and nearly everybody refused to leave the country, even after months of struggle.

In March, Voldemort turned his wrath to the muggles and started, all by himself, a firestorm that destroyed a quarter of Belfast. In April and May, Voldemort attacked refugee camps. In June and July he focused on "blood traitors." In August and September he was quiet and retreated to watch the terror he had sown.

Into this chaos, on Halloween, Voldemort released the vampires, werewolves, and dementors to do as they would.

With no more secrets to hide, the majority of the Unspeakable had started tracking behind the Death Eaters and, while keeping the unplottable aspects of the ward sets, began stripping the repellent wards being erected that forbade access to any but Death Eaters. They were a year behind, but they'd catch up. The remaining "real" and "fake" Unspeakables continued to work for the Ministry, their official task to eliminate the monsters now indiscriminately preying upon the terrified and desperate citizenry.

Muggle deaths passed nineteen million by December. This year, however, there were magical casualties as well – nearly 1,000 "blood traitors" were dead before the New Year.

--2006--

Draco earned his Mastery in construction in March. Days later Harry announced his fifth pregnancy. Aunt Madeline threw a huge "graduation" party for Draco and bragged to every person who would listen that her new home was built by Draco. With such an obvious showcase of his skills, Draco found himself inundated with commissions. Most requests were for personal dwellings, but there were a few more interesting ones. The merchants of the magical section of Calais asked for a central warehouse with integrated wards that could also act as an evacuation point. The Fontainebleau and Lefèvre families, providers of herbal and animal potions ingredients respectively, asked for secure warded manors. The Fierro family in Spain, the largest and most productive family of potions masters in the world, simply came right out and asked for a fortress to protect against Voldemort.

Lavender's and Liam's second child, Liam Junior, was born in May. Pansy's and Neville's third child, Lionel, was born in September. Harry's second and third girls, Eliana and Callista, were born the first of October. Draco's cousin Renatus and his wife Xenia became the godparents. All the children were healthy and Harry's and Draco's home was constantly awash in the sounds of fifteen children of varying ages.

Voldemort continued his rampage in both worlds and the death toll for wizards reached 2,000 while the muggle's tally reached over twenty-two million. The Death Eaters continued to recruit and their numbers reached 400. Wizard emigration was minor; most families choosing to consolidate and ward their properties. The Unspeakables estimated that the unplottable land now totaled over 13,000 square miles.

--2007--

The raids against magical families suddenly started to be foiled and no one knew why. The Ministry hadn't been responsible. Neither had the Order. Nor had the Unspeakables.

Luna merely smiled as she urged family after family to leave their homes mere hours or even minutes before Death Eater attacks. Coincidentally, or maybe not, she met up with Hermione one evening and told of her activities and requested that Hermione start releasing the food supplies that had been laid in by the Unspeakables. Hermione agreed, on the condition that Luna specify where they were to be delivered. Luna smiled and agreed.

The Lovegood family quickly gained a reputation amongst the people of being saviors; rescue, food, and healing were all guaranteed should they show up on your doorstep. News, too, was provided in the form of stories told by Xenophilius. _The Prophet_ and the wireless office had been destroyed along with Diagon Alley and news beyond your circle of friends and family was hard to come by.

The Order and Ministry continued to fight to the best of their abilities, but it was the Lovegoods who became idolized by the populace. The Order was thrilled people were being helped, but wanted the Lovegoods to join them and help foil even more attacks. The Ministry was desperate to find the Lovegoods so as to learn their secret. The Death Eaters had been commanded to hunt down and eliminate the rebellious family. Not one of those parties so much as caught sight of them, much to everyone's frustration.

The Unspeakables, except for the occasional contact with Luna Lovegood, ignored the situation. They were exceedingly busy fighting monsters and re-tuning all the wards being erected by the Death Eaters. A total of nearly 22,000 square miles had now disappeared from maps.

Some werewolves, vampires, and even Death Eaters, were killed when they attacked larger contingents of muggles. The dementors, however, were having quite the field…year…and had been directed to target the military and police so as to undermine what social order that was still being kept. Muggle deaths reached over twenty-four million and the death toll doubled again for wizards – now reaching 4,000.

--2008--

Draco finally finished the Fierro Fortress in July and he called in the payments owed for it and the manors he'd built for the Fontainebleau and Lefèvre families. Overnight, all potions and potions ingredients were no longer sold to Britain. The boycott would be in effect for fifteen years, with an option by Draco to cancel the boycott earlier should he choose.

Voldemort was not happy and sent minions to "talk" some sense into the three families only to never see those minions again. Attack teams were sent only to meet the same mysterious fate. Furious, Voldemort went on another personal rampage. Another two thousand "blood traitors" joined the muggle ghosts, bringing wizard deaths to 6,000.

Luna smiled as she and her family rescued more people and directed them to the nine new settlements she had asked Hermione to have created. Luna, Xenophilius, and Regina, now nine, held the exponentiated secrets to these places.

Unplottable land reached 31,000 square miles – all of it successfully re-tuned by the Unspeakables. They weren't as successful against the werewolves and vampires, however. With free reign, there were more monsters being made than could be killed each month. Muggle deaths topped twenty-seven million.

--2009--

Lavender's second girl, Rosemary, was born in April. That same month Hermione nearly lost her life doing a food run to one of the settlements.

Alastor Moody was doing reconnaissance when he saw a woman fleeing from Death Eaters. He saw her hit with a cutting spell, fall, and barely manage to hide behind a tree. Because of his vantage point, he saw her shift into a squirrel then try to climb the tree. But she was too injured and, in fact, looked barely conscious. He cursed as he shifted into his tiger form and sprinted across the open space, only the shock of seeing a Bengal tiger in the middle of Britain keeping the Death Eaters from firing spells at him. He stopped barely long enough to engulf the small squirrel in his mouth before racing off again, his missing leg only a minor hindrance after so much practice in this form.

He ran for five minutes, pushing his old cat form to its limits, before stopping in a clearing and setting the squirrel down and shifting back to human. He was shocked when the squirrel also shifted; he'd been sure she'd been unconscious as she'd made no move while in his mouth. He was shocked again at her identity but healed her as best he could. When she was better she dug out a pouch of potions and finished the job. In repayment, Hermione Granger left her savior an expanded trunk that held enough food to feed 200 people for an entire month as well as a variety of potions. He was too shocked at the gift, desperately needed by the Order, to speak before she had kissed him on the cheek, said they'd meet again, and left. Alastor felt a spark of Fate run through him and he wondered at her role when the King came.

Luna and her family continued to fill the settlements, now known collectively as The Pleiades. The Weasley twins worked with these settlements to train the willing (almost everyone) how to use various Weasley inventions to best advantage against Death Eaters. The attack teams from these settlements quickly became some of the most successful in repelling Death Eater attacks as well as fighting off the werewolves, vampires, and dementors.

But there weren't many attack teams and they couldn't spare the resources to protect muggles. Only another thousand wizards joined the dead by December, bringing their total to 7,000, but the muggle deaths reached over thirty million. The Unspeakables continued their self-appointed task and a total of 41,000 square miles of the Isles was now gone from maps.

--2010--

Pansy's third son, Gerard, was born in March. Neville chose that time to start his own herbology business. He could have quit his job with the Malfoys two years prior but stayed on as he felt he still had more to learn after his required five years were up. He felt he was now prepared to competently manage his own business. Immediately he started growing his favorite plants – the rare, exotic, and extremely difficult to successfully grow. By Christmas he'd already made a name for himself.

Robert, to his surprise, found himself being wooed by an older Veela widow and, to his even greater surprise, mated with her in September. To _everyone's_ surprise, Charlotte found herself pregnant in October. A quick check confirmed that the child was not a human pregnancy but a Veela pregnancy, and therefore not Robert's biological child but the child of Charlotte's first mate. Nobody cared, especially not Robert. The couple did agree that it was going to be very odd to have a child the same age as their great-grandchildren, however.

Luna's daughter, Regina, managed to cast her first healing spell two days before her eleventh birthday. She'd been casting simple spells for years, mostly cleaning and cooking, but this was her first intermediate-power spell. Luna smiled as Regina spent the next month proudly healing every tiny cut she could find on the people they rescued. The people adored the bright and cheerful little girl.

The existence of the refugee settlements in Britain had been discovered but neither Dumbledore nor Voldemort could find them. The WATs (Weasley Attack Teams) claimed a major victory in July when they eliminated nearly one hundred Death Eaters in a single two-minute guerilla assault on a training camp betrayed by one of the few spies. There were still nearly 500 Death Eaters, but losing a sixth of his fighting/warding force enraged Voldemort, who immediately took out his frustrations on hapless muggles.

But things were still bad for the magical population, whose losses now totaled 8,000. The muggle's population losses topped thirty-three million.

--2011--

Voldemort took over the Ministry building in May. It hadn't been too difficult; by that time there wasn't much of a Ministry left due to the economic collapse. The madman had declared himself Emperor of the Isles and demanded that every able-bodied citizen report in to be Marked and join his army in the destruction of the muggles.

Very few complied, choosing instead to hide, leave, or join the resistance. Given the prior complacency of the population, this response engendered shock world-wide. It seemed the British wizards had finally found their backbone.

Voldemort had ordered the capture of every non-complying citizen but wasn't having as much success as he wanted. Voldemort became even more frustrated and went on several personal rampages across the country. He also sent teams on forays into surrounding countries, but every team again disappeared. Unable to determine the cause of failure – causing the loss of over fifty minions – Voldemort focused on hiding his newly cleansed territory and killing muggles.

Teams of Death Eaters started placing buoys four miles out from land in a rough oval. The buoys were spelled to be muggle repellent for a half-mile radius and were placed every quarter-mile around the Isles. A total of twelve thousand buoys – all evidently manufactured before the fall of the Ministry – were placed by year's end. The muggles now had no means of escape and their deaths continued to rise – over thirty-six million were dead by the time the line of buoys was finished.

The wizard death toll rose to 9,000 and the disappearing land reached 59,000 square miles.

--2012--

Another victory against Voldemort was won in January. A mysterious informant had passed information to the Order that several inner-circle members would be at a certain location at a certain time. There was debate as to whether the information was a trap but plans were made regardless and six inner-circle members were successfully eliminated by the Order.

Lucius Malfoy was among them.

Martin Goyle, gravely injured, managed to apparate away both himself and the body of his charge. He spent the next month at the Malfoy estates recovering from his injuries and grieving the loss of his friend and co-guard Clement Crabbe. Of Lucius he said nothing.

It was an ambivalent Malfoy family that gathered for Lucius' funeral. Draco returned home to Harry, bringing with him a severely depressed Martin Goyle. Harry was surprised and a little worried. He had liked Martin, years ago, but wasn't convinced he was the same man now. An unbreakable vow later and Harry was comfortable having Martin around his children.

It was Victor, the future King, who brought Martin out of his depression. Victor had, somehow, conned Martin into telling him anything and everything he knew about Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Harry was not pleased his ten-year-old son was learning such things but did not put a stop to it; Victor would need that information. Martin, once he'd been told the prophecy, threw himself completely into educating the future King, finding a new purpose in his life.

The Lovegoods continued to rescue and hide the citizens, but losses among wizards still reached 10,000. The Unspeakables continued to release the food supplies, but were now helped by the Malfoy vassals. It was through the efforts of both sets of people that no wizard in Britain was in danger of starving. The Unspeakables also continued to re-tune the wards the Death Eaters set, the total unplottable land reaching nearly 70,000 square miles by the new year.

But no one could spare the resources to help the muggles and they continued to die in droves. Their food supply was unaffected, but social collapse still caused starvation of a great number of unfortunate people. Unsanitary conditions were rampant and death from disease was high. Riots killed even more. The monsters of the night were rabid and uncontrolled and attacked at their fancy with minimal interference. December saw the muggle deaths top forty million, nearly two-thirds of the original population.

--2013--

Lavender had her fourth and last child, Devlin, in August. A month later Pansy announced her fifth pregnancy. A month after that everyone laughed at a smug-looking Robert and Charlotte as the older couple announced they were also expecting.

In April, a major victory was won against Voldemort, perpetrated by, of all people, Severus Snape. It had cost him his life, but he had finally earned enough rank in the Death Eaters to be invited to the meetings held by Voldemort's mysterious General. A wordless beheading curse later, he activated his emergency portkey back to Order headquarters. He wasn't quite fast enough to escape the retaliatory spells of those also in the room and had had only enough time to gasp out his accomplishment before dying.

It was Alastor Moody who arranged for the spy's funerary rites. It was Alastor who gave the eulogy, expounding on Severus' many faults as well as his gifts and sacrifices. It was a rather bald and shocking speech, but everyone agreed that Severus would rather have the truth told about him than covering up what he was in pretty euphemisms. It was also Alastor who lit the sacred fire beneath Severus' body, shocking everyone in attendance. The antagonism between the two men was legendary and the sacred fire could only be summoned with feelings of true sorrow for the death of the ones for whom the rites were being held. Alastor simply shrugged and refused to comment.

Voldemort was obviously at a loss without his General and organized attacks abruptly stopped. That isn't to say that there wasn't still danger from enterprising Death Eaters – over 600 strong – as well as the rapidly multiplying monsters of the night. The warding of the Isles still continued apace and by December 80,000 square miles had been warded.

Wizard deaths reached 10,500 and muggle deaths were estimated at forty-three million.

--2014--

Charlotte bore her child, Adele, in March. Gallard, all of three years old, was delighted with his little sister. Pansy had her last child, Orson, in May. Harry announced his last pregnancy in June – thought to have been initiated by general contentedness – and on Christmas birthed Phoebe and Roxana. Giselle, Harry's favorite cousin, and her mate Lysander became the godparents.

After the Blessing a month later, Draco's arm sported six sets of red twin bands. A week following the Blessing he and the family sat for a portrait that would grace the Halls of Accomplishment in the same gallery as other mates with a full dozen offspring. Draco wasn't the only one with a twinning mate, nor the only one with a conception pregnancy or wartime births. He was, however, the only one with the combination of all three. Draco's tattoo afforded him a great deal of respect among the Veela – above and beyond the fact that he'd won a Delamater mate. Neville, too, was in the portrait, holding the babies and was sporting an armband that had an engraving that copied Draco's tattoo. Neville wore the armband constantly – and not just because of the protections cast upon it – and was given much respect by the Veela nation for having been the midwife for all of Harry's chicks. Draco had continued his architectural career and was hailed as the finest architect for the last three centuries. Draco had been responsible for building many of the homes and buildings in the new town that Queen Émilie had ordered constructed to house the Veela population she had encouraged to leave Britain. He was also responsible for quite a number of homes for the European wizard aristocracy.

When finally questioned about her childless state, Hermione had merely shrugged and said she, like all Unspeakables, had no interest. The pursuit of knowledge always came first and the last Unspeakable to have a child had been over 200 years ago. It didn't matter, she said, as her friends had kindly provided any number of kids to spoil.

New Year's Eve brought several pieces of good news. The Weasley Attack Teams had found three large vampire lairs and eliminated a quarter of the estimated vampires with minimal losses. Infighting amongst the Death Eaters had cost them sixty-one people without any of the resistance having lifted a finger, leaving about 650. And dominance fights among the rabid werewolves cost that population over half of their members, also without anyone having to lift a finger.

Wizard deaths in the Isles reached 11,000 but Voldemort still found himself stymied when he tried to wreak havoc outside the country. His minions would leave and never come back and he never heard why. He angrily contented himself with muggle hunting and forty-seven million were dead by the end of the year. He didn't allow the warding of his "Empire" to be affected by any of his recent setbacks, however, and the unplottable land reached over 92,000 square miles.

--2015--

Ginny and Ron Weasley went missing in February after a fight in a rural location. Ginny was found by the Unspeakables in April, quite by accident, in a coma in an isolated farmstead being tended to by a muggle shepherd. The shepherd had been given food in payment – the man having refused to evacuate – and Ginny was taken to one of The Pleiades and healed as much as possible. The blow to her head that had landed her in the coma had cost her her sight, but she would otherwise recover. Ron was never found.

In June Voldemort tried to send another party outside the Isles, to Paris, to start expansion of his empire. But again his people went missing. He tried to send just one minion, to collect news, but that minion also went missing. He finally had the idea to send an unmarked and imperioused prisoner for news. But the unfortunate captive came back empty-handed and was promptly tortured to death.

Unwilling to risk himself, he concentrated on subjugating the remaining population of the Isles. But he had problems there, too, he realized. The number of vampires and werewolves now outnumbered the Death Eaters five to one. He was worried about a rebellion but the half-breeds seemed content to hunt muggles and fight amongst themselves. The Death Eaters, in between recreational hunts for muggles and blood traitors, were still working on the wards and had managed to ward 105,000 square miles of his territory by year's end.

Wizard deaths reached 11,500, many of the raids against them still stymied by the Lovegoods – whose reputation continued to grow. It became rumored that it was the Unspeakables that had been providing food the past many years and that group, too, became revered by the people. Hermione was pleased at the results of her rumors as it would help ease any tension people felt about what her people had been doing all this time.

The muggles, still without help or recourse, managed as best they could. They clustered about food producing areas, despite the fact that this made them easier mass targets. Their deaths topped fifty-one million by December.

--2016--

Charlie Weasley had the brilliant idea of training the dragons to attack vampires. The dragons hadn't been useful as yet in protecting wizards – they'd been disallowed in the war when the Ministry was still in place and after its fall had been just as ineffective as anyone, or thing, else against the guerrilla attacks. Hunting vampires, though, proved highly successful. The dragons could smell the vampire lairs from a hundred miles away and Charlie and his friends spent several jubilantly slaughter-filled months flying dragons around the country and having the great beasts sniff out caves/cellars/hideouts and spew their hot fire. No one in the resistance cared if muggles saw the dragons, either, as the secrecy statutes had long since been shot to pieces as far as the British population was concerned. Britain was mostly vampire free by November.

The WATs exulted and immediately left the vampires to the dragons, turning their efforts instead to the werewolves. That population soon found themselves in dire straights as well. Siriusly Silver Starbursts – a grenade like object that exploded into silver vapor – had been perfected by Fred and George just after the New Year. The spells to ensure the toxic silver vapor tracked just to the werewolves, while avoiding all other living creatures, had been the hardest aspect of their new weapon. Their research and hard work paid off handsomely, however, and the number of werewolves was halved by December.

Voldemort and the Death Eaters grew nervous as their allies were destroyed around them. With nothing else to do, though, they continued their prior activities. And at nearly 800 fighters, the Death Eaters still maintained the arrogance of assured victors. By December the unplottable land reached almost 119,000 square miles, dead "blood traitors" reached 12,000, and dead muggles topped fifty-five million. Some of the Death Eaters did try to leave to other countries – despite prior evidence that such an action didn't seem to be successful – and were never heard from again.

--2017--

February saw the last of the Isles warded unplottable. Muggles around the world mourned the loss of an entire nation and wondered what had caused the sea to reclaim the land. Wizards had several theories on what had happened but it was only the top echelons of the governments that had received confirmatory reports about unplottable wards. None of those governments wanted to give their people ideas, however, and the information was not disseminated.

When the last ward was re-tuned, Luna smiled and started making a dress for her daughter. Hermione's seers told her several things once the wards were finished being re-tuned and she made the decision not to pass along the information to her friends – they'd be stressed enough without her warning. Instead, she focused her Unspeakables on helping the populace however they could and waited.

The WATs and the Order joined forces in March and spent several months ignoring Death Eaters and hunting the werewolves to extinction. Voldemort made several personal appearances in April – killing hundreds of wizards in just a few weeks – and crushed the hope that was starting to rise in the populace. Dumbledore made just as many appearances to try to keep that hope alive.

May saw the death of the last British vampire and hope rise.

June saw the death of an entire WAT in a Death Eater raid and hope dropped.

July saw the death of the last British werewolf and hope rose again.

August saw the death of Albus Dumbledore and hope plummeted.

--The Last Hope--

_He was flying, zooming, towards an unknown destination. He flew over forests and water and then areas of destruction. He realized this must be Britain, or what remained of it. He continued flying slowly over the devastated landscape and he thought he might be able to retrace his steps if needed, especially since particular landmarks seemed to jump out at him. Suddenly, he dived towards the ground. He felt no fear as he saw the rapidly approaching roof of a large house and was unsurprised when he slipped through the roof with no problems. He floated through the house and eventually arrived in a large room, a kitchen by the looks of it. He stopped. Curious, he looked around. People were whispering and the looks upon their faces indicated something very bad had happened. He listened._

"_Do you think he'll be all right?"_

"_We can't lose him."_

"_If he dies, we'll have no hope."_

"_He can't die! He just can't!"_

_He wandered and listened and wondered what he was doing here. A door opened and he turned with everyone else to see an older woman enter. She looked grave and there were sobs._

"_He won't last the night," she said softly. "I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do."_

"_Laura, are you sure?" asked another older woman imploringly._

_Laura nodded as tears ran down her face. "I am. You-Know-Who's spell was too strong and has done too much damage."_

_Weeping broke out all over the room at the pronouncement. He wondered whom it was that everyone was so distressed over._

"_He's asked…he's asked that everyone come to see him for a few minutes privately," Laura said hesitantly. "Alastor is to go last."_

_He wandered about for quite some time as people left in tears then came back in even worse shape. He recognized some of these people, he thought, from a few old pictures and the descriptions of his fathers and Martin and the intelligence reports he read. He watched as Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody finally made his way to the door to take a turn saying goodbye._

_Unlike the last hour where he had been unable to leave the room, he now felt compelled to follow Moody. He followed the man as he made his way up a set of stairs and then up yet another set of stairs. The place was gloomy and he decided it was likely the Grimmauld Place house that had once been described to him. He followed Moody into a well-lit room. There on the bed was Albus Dumbledore, unmistakable with his long beard, looking very much on his death bed._

_Albus held out a hand weakly and Moody took it and sat on the bed. "Albus," Moody said softly_

"_Alastor, my old friend," Albus said sadly._

"_We've had some good times, haven't we?" Moody asked as he squeezed Albus' hand._

"_Yes," Albus said with small smile. "Not too many recently, though. I've become a bitter old man, haven't I, Alastor?"_

"_Aye, Albus, that you have," Alastor said with small nod. "It's not been entirely unwarranted, however."_

"_And yet you stayed beside me," Albus said. "I can never thank you enough."_

"_You don't have to thank me, Albus," Alastor said. "What kind of friend would I be if I abandoned you when you needed me the most?"_

"_Nevertheless, I thank you," Albus said sincerely._

"_You're welcome," Alastor said with another small nod._

_Albus was quiet a moment then said, "I tried. I tried so hard. I did everything I could."_

"_I know," Alastor said. "Nobody thinks you didn't."_

"_You don't understand," Albus said. "You don't understand."_

"_Then tell me," Alastor said. "Make me understand."_

"_There was a prophecy," Albus said as a tear leaked out one eye. "I tried to break it. I tried everything."_

"_What did it say?" Alastor asked after a moment._

_He listened. He listened as the prophecy was recited word perfect. He'd known about the prophecy all his life and had it memorized by the time he was five. His fathers hadn't been pleased at his destined role, but had nevertheless done all they could to prepare him for it. He'd had lessons in magic since he'd first asked for them, in all innocence, when he was three. He'd started lessons in fighting – both magical and physical – a year after that. He'd had lessons in politics, diplomacy, and leadership since he was six. He'd been taught about law and justice and social structure since he was eight. He'd been taught how to build houses and how to fight werewolves, how to put out fires and how to banish dementors. He'd been taught how to heal and how to kill. He'd been taught how to be the best King he could be when the time came._

"_That's a very interesting prophecy, Albus," Alastor said. "Very interesting, indeed. Now I understand why you did some things you did, especially in regards to the Potter lad."_

"_Harry will never forgive me," Albus said, more tears leaking out the corner of his eyes._

"_No, I doubt he ever will," Alastor said._

"_He doesn't understand," Albus said as forcefully as he could. "I hoped. For so long I hoped that I could get him to vanquish Voldemort forever. I hoped that I could keep the Kingdom from falling to ruin. I hoped that I could break the prophecy. I hoped for that so badly. And now my only hope is that it's true in its entirety."_

"_I'm sure it is Albus," Alastor said comfortingly. "Take that hope with you."_

"_But when?" Albus asked sadly. "When? What shall be left? The seventh son…has he even been born?"_

"_It's been nearly twenty years, Albus," Alastor said._

"_I know. He's probably born but he's still a boy," Albus said, closing his eyes. "How much longer must the people wait?"_

"_Not much longer, I do not think," Alastor said after a pause. "You are often thought of as the last hope, Albus, and by dawn you shall be lost. Perhaps the King will come very soon indeed."_

_Albus opened his eyes and got a look of hope. "Perhaps you are right." He deflated then and said, "But he would still be a boy. No one will follow a boy."_

_Alastor snorted. "Don't be ridiculous, Albus. I know you don't like to think about it, but we have fighters as young as twelve and team leaders as young as fourteen. As long as the King is over that age, there will be no problem."_

_Albus smiled softly. "Perhaps you are right."_

"_Of course I'm right," Alastor said._

_Albus laughed weakly then fell into a coughing fit. It was several minutes later when he said desperately, "You must find him when he comes. Somehow, you must find him."_

_Alastor said nothing._

"_Promise me!" Albus pleaded weakly. "Promise me you will find him and help him and the counselors. They won't understand what's needed, coming from outside. You must help them. Please, Alastor, as my dying wish, find him. Find the King."_

"_I will not need to, I don't think," Alastor said softly. "I think he will find me."_

"_He will not know where to find you," Albus said, rising panic draining his remaining energy. "You must look. Promise me!"_

"_He will find me, Albus, I am sure of it." Alastor said softly. "I am the Tiger."_

_Albus gasped and immediately fell into another coughing fit. "Alastor?" he asked when he recovered, barely able to speak._

"_I am the Tiger. I hold the crown," Alastor said softly. "The King will find me, Albus, I am sure of it. And he will come soon, I think. He turned sixteen just two weeks ago."_

"_How do you know this?" Albus asked, weak with death and wonder._

"_I saw him born," Alastor said with a shrug. "It's why I lost my ear. You remember that weird fugue I went into that one time, I'm sure."_

"_The others? Do you know the others?" Albus asked, hope mingling with darkness in his eyes._

_Alastor paused. "I know who the Squirrel is, I think. I don't know anything about the Wolf. They will come when needed, I'm certain."_

_Albus closed his eyes. "Do your best, Alastor," he said very weakly. "Promise me."_

"_I promise you, Albus," Alastor said softly. "I promise."_

_Albus didn't speak again and two minutes later he died quietly. Alastor released his friend's hand, setting it back on the unmoving chest, then stood and turned. He stopped and blinked in surprise. "Nice pajamas," he said blandly._

--Arrival/September--

The guard burst into the room and breathlessly announced, "There's someone at the door!"

"Silence!" Moody yelled into the resulting hubbub. When a reluctant and scared hush fell he turned to the young man and asked. "What does he look like?"

"He's about six feet with shoulder length dark hair," the guard said, frazzled and wild-eyed.

"Eye color?"

"I don't know. I'm sorry," the guard said, shaking his head. "He looks about sixteen."

"He is sixteen," Alastor murmured.

"You know who it is?" Arthur Weasley asked in surprise. "I thought everyone was here. Is there someone else Albus told the secret of this place?"

"I think so," Alastor said. He put a hand down by his side and felt the crown he had been carrying there this past week ever since he had gotten a spirit glimpse of his King. "Let him in and bring him here"

Alastor waved the others quiet and moved to the front of the room, just feet away from the door, and waited. The others were wary and frightened. "There is nothing to be afraid of," Alastor said calmly. "He is here to help us win."

Surprisingly, this settled everyone. They trusted Alastor and if he said this someone was here to help then this someone was here to help.

A few minutes later the guard brought back a young man and those who had known Harry Potter knew instantly who the boy was.

"You're Harry's child!" Molly exclaimed but before anyone could do or say anything else they all watched in stunned amazement as Moody went down on one knee.

"Your Majesty. I am glad to finally meet you," Moody said respectfully. Seeing the spirit of his King a week ago had only vaguely prepared him for seeing his King in person. The tendrils of Fate were ripping through him, changing him somehow, and he felt a sense of rightness permeate his entire world.

Victor saw the man kneeling to him and felt the weight of his responsibilities finally turn from a vague knowledge to a real understanding. He put his hand on Moody's bowed head. "Did you lose more pieces, Advisor, since last week? I see you have a bandage around your hand."

"Just a couple fingers, Your Majesty," Moody said dismissively. "Nothing that will impact my service to You."

"I didn't think it would," Victor said in amusement, forgoing the royal pronoun. He figured, rightly so, that it would hinder his chances with these people rather than help. "I've heard much about you and doubted such a thing would influence you. I am simply concerned for your health."

"I am perfectly fine," Moody asserted.

Victor laughed slightly. "I'm sure you are," he said. "Rise, Alastor, and serve me and our people. You have something for me?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Moody said as he rose and looked over his King from head to toe. His King allowed the perusal and even had a smile on his face.

"Do I meet your approval, Advisor?" Victor asked in amusement.

"Aye, Your Majesty," Alastor said with a smile. "Now?"

Victor looked over the silent contingent of people in the kitchen that were still staring in amazement, though many gazes were now tinged with curiosity and hope. He turned his gaze back to Alastor and said with a smirk, "If you think it best, Advisor. I'm quite aware that my coronation will be nothing grand and pompous, so if you feel it best to continue right now, here in this kitchen, then so be it. It is your choice."

Moody grinned scarily and pulled the crown from his robes with one hand. This time it was Victor's turn to kneel and bow his head. Both of them ignored the shifting and murmuring of the Order.

Moody held the crown above his King's head with both hands. The crown hadn't changed in any way since so long ago when he'd touched it during Harry Potter's courting. He felt power resonate throughout the room as magic and Fate spoke through him as he asked the young man kneeling before him to swear his oaths. "Will you solemnly swear to govern the Races of Avalon, according to their respective laws and customs, to mete out Law and Justice and Mercy in all your judgments, to honor and promote the Gods of this Land and their will and teachings, to protect the Races and this Land from those who would come to conquer it?"

"All this I so swear, before the Gods," Victor said strongly and sincerely. "May my reign honor our Peoples and our Gods."

There were gasps of wonder, awe, and even fear, as the crown held by Alastor floated away from his hands then spun and sparkled. The magics throughout the room became oppressive then seemed to all be absorbed into the crown as it slowly settled onto the young King's head. Only Alastor was close enough to hear the soft intake of breath and see the slight shiver as the crown settled into place.

Victor did his best to not collapse or cry out in surprise as the crown bonded to him and he felt the amazing well of power now available for him to call upon. Slowly he rose and looked over the remainder of the Order. Everyone looked on in varying degrees of amazement, disbelief, and hope. Victor turned back to Alastor and smiled. "So, Advisor, tell me about my people…"

--October--

"I'm surprised you like our food," Brent said with mild curiosity.

Victor looked up from his breakfast and raised an eyebrow at one of the youngest scouts and team-leaders of the Order. Over the last month of getting to know the Order, it had become easily apparent that it was this young man that would be the key to winning the support of the younger fighters. "Why would I not?" he asked politely.

"I'd think you'd be used to fru-fru meals, not the basic fare available during war," Brent said, tilting his head as he watched the supposed King eat another bite of scrambled eggs.

"Well," Victor said slowly as he stabbed a piece of sausage. He waved the meat in the air as he decided how to respond. Finally, he shrugged and said, "It's better than kimchi."

"Better than what?" Brent asked in confusion.

"Kimchi," Victor said with a straight face and a not-quite-hidden grimace. "It's cabbage that's been harvested, buried in pots for months, fermented, then dug up and eaten. Spiced to taste, of course."

"That's disgusting," Brent said with a look of revulsion.

"Yes. Yes, it is," Victor said with a serious nod. He ate his sausage piece and cut another.

"You've _eaten_ that?" Brent asked, ignoring the snort of Alastor Moody who was sitting two seats away.

"Not by choice, I assure you," Victor said. "But when your choice is to starve or eat something even vaguely edible…"

Brent looked horrified. "Why would you ever be in that situation?"

"I've traveled extensively around the world," Victor said in explanation. "At some of those places I've been apprenticed for a time to different masters so that I could learn the magics I would need to protect and rule Avalon. One of those masters was Asian and had no sympathy for my _pampered ways_, as he put it. It didn't do me any good to complain that I _hadn't_ been pampered; I was still required to either eat what was offered or starve. Sometimes I think his wife made the most awful dishes just to try and encourage me to leave. Too bad I'm stubborn."

"Too bad for _you_, it sounds like," Brent said, still disgusted.

Victor laughed. "Yes, probably."

"What did you want to learn that was so important to eat _that_?" Brent asked in morbid curiosity.

Victor smiled grimly and both Brent and Alastor – and a couple others who had been paying attention to the conversation from afar – looked impressed that such an inexperienced young man could hold such a visage convincingly.

"What's your biggest problem right now?" Victor asked grimly. "Other than Voldemort and his people, I mean."

"Dementors," Brent said unhesitatingly.

"Yes, exactly," Victor murmured. "Dementors. Do you know what they are?"

"Of course I do," Brent said in offense. "They're soul-sucking demons."

Victor shook his head. "No. That's what they _do_. Do you know what they _are_?"

Brent narrowed his eyes in aggravation. "I suppose you have an answer."

"Dementors are vindictive spirits," Victor said, twiddling another piece of sausage. "Other people call them wraiths or liches or revenants. At their very base, dementors are all vindictive souls who want to spread the anger, hate, and despair they felt while alive. The problem with them is that they are more powerful than other lingering spirits and can't just be exorcised like regular ghosts."

"You learned how to exorcise them?" Brent asked scornfully.

"Do you think that knowledge was worth six months of kimchi?" Victor asked pointedly.

Brent stared at the crowned young man across from him and felt the first stirrings of hope. It was a foreign emotion to him, having been raised in war. But the supposed King seemed so confident… "If you actually get rid of all those demons, I'll kiss your ring."

"I don't have a ring," Victor said blandly.

"Your ass, then. I don't care," Brent said angrily. "You get rid of them and I'll believe you can actually be King."

Victor took a couple sips of his water as he studied the young man across from him. Brent was two years younger and had had far less formal training than himself. However, he was quite aware that the Order's foremost scout had a hundred times the amount of actual experience than a newly crowned King.

"I need to set up a dozen temporary gates to the Otherworld," Victor said while looking Brent in the eyes. "Each gate will act like a vortex on the dementors, sucking them through and out of this world. I only have the knowledge of how to anchor the gates for a month – dark moon to dark moon. The gates will affect an area of about ten thousand square miles, so I'll need to set up a dozen all across the nation on the same night so that the dementors have nowhere they can flee. You're the best scout, I've been told. Perhaps you can determine where I need to put those gates."

Brent was silent a moment then leaned forward with as much eagerness as he ever showed. "What kind of place do you need?"

Victor smiled slightly. "Well, it needs to be flat…"

--November--

"Laura!" Alastor called loudly as he apparated into Grimmauld Place with the bloody and barely conscious form of his King. "Come on, Your Majesty, just hold out a bit more. No dying on me, you hear. I don't want to know what your parents will think of this."

"They won't think anything…if you don't tell them," Victor gasped out.

"What about you?" Alastor asked gruffly as he lay his burden down on a bench that had been hastily conjured by one of the other returning Order members.

"I'm not telling them…anything. They told me…they didn't want…to hear it," Victor answered.

Alastor snorted in understanding. He wouldn't want to hear about his children's near-death experiences, either. If he'd had any children.

"Said they only wanted…to hear…the bard's songs," Victor groaned in relief as the healer finally arrived and cast several pain relieving charms. "They only want to hear the songs proclaiming my awesome greatness. Everything else would be too stressful."

"Isn't that just like them to bury their heads in the sand just like they've done the past two decades?" came the bitter voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Shut your mouth, Kingsley!" growled Alastor.

Victor struggled to sit up but was held in place by Alastor and Brent. He gave up trying to move but nevertheless responded to the accusation. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"They could have helped but they chose to run away like cowards!" Kingsley said angrily. "They left their home to rot!"

"They've done more for the people of this country than you have," Victor said with quiet intensity. The tone of his voice caught the attention of nearly everybody and a hush rose as people listened and/or watched the brewing argument.

"They've done nothing!" Kingsley yelled. "Have they fought off Death Eaters? No! Vampires or Werewolves on the full moon? No! They've done nothing but abandon everyone!"

"They've eliminated five hundred Death Eaters and fed this country," Victor said, glaring at the raging man. "Do you know _why_ Death Eaters that leave Britain never come back? Of course you don't. Do you know where your food _really_ comes from? No, you don't. You don't know anything!"

"Be still, Your Majesty," Alastor said as he held an angrily twitching arm and shoulder. He didn't interrupt the argument, however. Kingsley had long needed to be taken down a peg or two. Of course, it wasn't as if he wasn't curious about those answers himself.

"The Malfoy family has allied families all across the world with a total number of family members reaching nearly 30,000. Starting in 1999 _Harry Potter_ worked with those people and the Malfoy Head to weave Dark Mark detection and tracking nets across the globe, especially in Europe and Scandinavia," Victor said, still glaring.

"Impossible," Kingsley sneered. "Such nets are only theoretical. They can't be maintained."

"Wrong," Victor hissed furiously. "With tens of thousands of willing people _Harry Potter_ was able to successfully raise the nets – highly volatile though they were. The nets require _constant_ attention and it takes all the Malfoy allies to keep them from _collapsing_. Contacts were found in law enforcement departments to respond to any alarms triggered by the nets. Those nets were the idea of _Harry Potter_. The creation of those nets took the coordinated efforts of Gaius Malfoy and _Harry Potter_. Those nets continue to be maintained at the request of _Harry Potter_. Five hundred Death Eaters have been captured and executed because of the efforts of _Harry Potter_! You know _nothing_!"

"Calm down," Brent said urgently as he worked with Alastor to keep their angry King still. "You're making it difficult for Laura!"

"And it's at the request of _Harry Potter_ that the Malfoy allies – a total of over _five thousand_ families – send a care package to the Unspeakables every week!" Victor continued adamantly. "Half the food and most of the supplies that the Unspeakables ration out come from the Malfoy allies and you can ask the Unspeakables if you don't believe me. All at the request of _Harry Potter_. You've probably cursed his name in the same breath as you ate the food he arranged for you to have!"

Shocked murmurs floated about at the information that had been revealed. Even Kingsley looked taken aback. Alastor remained silent but was internally quite impressed at what the Potter lad had done. It was Brent that quietly asked, "What about your other father?"

Victor took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm down. "Draco Malfoy is the premier architect in the wizarding world. He rediscovered how to integrate wards into a building as it was being constructed thereby improving the building's stability as well improving the efficacy of the wards. It was he that built the new manors and several other buildings for the Fierro, Fontainebleau and Lefèvre families." Victor paused and looked around. "I see a few of you understand the significance of those names."

"I don't," said Michael, a younger member of the team that had returned with Victor.

"It's his fault we don't have potions!" Kingsley yelled, newly incensed. "He blackmailed those families not to sell to us!"

Victor was gratified to see that no one appeared to take that accusation at face value. "The boycott of Britain was the payment he asked for, that's true. St. Mungo's was hard hit, but the general populace mostly got by, at least until the Ministry fell, with what they could make themselves or buy from other more expensive sources. The Death Eaters, however, were severely impacted. Did you never connect the boycott with the discontinued use of dark potions by Voldemort? Not once? Did you think they stopped just because they felt like being nice? No. _Draco Malfoy_, another name you've probably cursed, was solely responsible for that."

"He could have put qualifications on the boycott," Kingsley insisted.

Victor ignored the comment, knowing it wasn't worth arguing over where the potions would _really_ have ended up. "And if that wasn't enough, they raised _me_. They knew I was to be King. They knew and they made sure that when I came here I could _do my job_. My parents have done a great deal for this country and you will keep a civil tongue about them."

Kingsley was positively quivering in anger. "You are not _my_ King. Britain does not need a King and I certainly will not swear fealty to the son of those two _traitors_!"

Victor sighed and closed his eyes. Obviously the man was too bitter and/or set in his beliefs to see anything beyond what he wanted to see. "You do not have to, Kingsley Shacklebolt. All who swear me fealty will do so of their own free will and desire. Now please leave. Laura needs to finish and I need to recover." Victor ignored the angry grumblings and the shifting of the people about him and continued to keep his eyes closed, relishing being free of the pain from the cutting curse he'd taken from Voldemort himself.

"Not all of us are against you," Brent said softly.

Victor opened his eyes again and smiled slightly at the head scout. Brent had sworn his fealty oaths less than a minute after seeing a dementor sucked through a Gate. After Alastor, he had been the first to do so. "I know. And I knew that it would be the older crowd who would be less accepting of me. It's all right."

"Did your parents really do those things?" Brent asked curiously. "That's…really a lot."

"Yes," Victor said and closed his eyes again. He ignored the soft conversation going on above him and drifted off into a healing sleep, conveniently arranged by a conniving healer.

--December--

"I am _not_ being overconfident," Victor protested. "Honestly, I've been thrashed into the ground by the Royal Guard too many times to have that particular ego problem. No, this is pure logic. We've hunted and killed over half the remaining Death Eaters in the last two months. We should be able to maintain that momentum and kill another couple hundred by Christmas. It might even be more if we're lucky and they do stupid things because of fear. That will leave us just the last two hundred to fight at the final battle."

"And what about the rumors?" Arthur asked. "The rumors of a prophesied King, along with the loss of the dementors and the death of their comrades, may have set fear into the hearts of the Death Eaters but it's just made You-Know-Who even more angry and insane."

"I can handle Voldemort," Victor said for the fourth time that night. "I've been trained on how to dissolve the bonds that are holding together his corporeal body and then I'll open another Gate and banish him through it. I simply need a long enough distraction."

"More of your necromancy," Minerva said disapprovingly. "Albus would never have allowed it."

Victor grit his teeth and refused to respond to the snipe. This woman was the worst with Albus this and Albus that. "Just what field of magic did you think exorcism belonged in? And I will remind you that those Gates solved the dementor problem in only one month. It's not as if I'm raising inferi." Many of the older Order members were suspicious of such "dark" magic, but Victor took comfort in the fact that the younger set of members couldn't care less _what_ the new King was doing just as long as he delivered on his promises.

Fred Weasley stood up and said, "If we can get the Death Eaters down to only a couple hundred, I'll authorize the WATs to assist on New Year's Eve. Any more than that and I think it'll be too overbalanced in their favor."

The planning for the final battle went from there. Ideas were offered, discarded, modified, and incorporated until a final plan was agreed upon. The process took several days and involved many heated arguments, but it did get done. And since they did reduce the number of Death Eater to less than a couple hundred by Christmas, the plan went forward.

Ironically, it was near Little Whinging, Surrey, where Voldemort was finally cornered – there was no way the evil man would be leaving through the apparition and portkey wards Victor had erected with the power of the crown he wore. Upon realizing his predicament, Voldemort did the only logical thing – to him – and summoned all of his remaining minions to defend him. Victor nearly cackled in glee.

Under the cover of the fighting going on around him, Victor spent the next quarter hour casting the spirit-ward he'd been taught for this situation. Then he opened another gate. Only a few noticed. The dissolution of a homunculus was the last spell Victor cast before all attention turned to him and Voldemort.

Voldemort screeched as his body dissolved and the sound was enough to stop everybody in their tracks and turn to stare. Everybody watched in horror and disgust as a black spirit rose from the dissolving body and flew straight up – and hit a shield. The spirit screamed again and flew in another direction – and was stopped. The spirit then flew into one of the nearby Death Eaters and everyone shuddered at what was obviously an unwilling possession.

"Who dares attack the Emperor of the Isles?" Voldemort shrieked from within the body of his victim.

"We dare," Victor said, absently noting that Alastor had cast a voice amplifying charm. "We, the true King of Avalon, do hereby judge you unworthy to remain in this Land and banish you from it. We judge your minions to also be unworthy and they shall accompany you as you finally pass to the afterlife."

"I am immortal!" screamed a mad Voldemort.

"Not in this life," Victor said grimly then started casting another spell to magically grasp onto all who wore the Dark Mark.

Everyone there could feel the power of the King. They all watched in awe as the Death Eaters were pulled towards a churning black vortex few had noticed before. There was screaming and denials and pleas, but Victor was relentless as he forced one after another into the Gate. As part of the planning earlier in the month, he'd been introduced to the three spies in Voldemort's ranks and had tagged them. When those three men were drawn to the Gate he protected them from the Gate's pull and instead brought them towards him and set them into the custody of his Advisor.

Ten minutes later it was Voldemort's turn.

Voldemort fought with everything he had and, truly, the magic was spectacular. But Victor was resolute. Everyone watched as the determined King slowly pushed, by force of will alone, the Dark Lord back and through the vortex. When Voldemort was through Victor collapsed the Gate and then the spirit-ward. He swayed slightly before standing straight.

The deafening silence lasted only moments before the cheers became resounding. Victor grinned foolishly and leaned on his Advisor as everyone starting chanting, "All hail the King!" Victor walked through the people and let them touch him and thank him and cry all over him. It was hours later when Alastor shooed off the last of the people and steered his King to bed.

It was some indeterminate time later when Victor woke to a bedroom he didn't recognize. He lay there and let his mind take him over the things he remembered. "Voldemort, Death Eaters, Voldemort, people cheering," he said to himself. "It still doesn't explain where I'm at."

"You're in your father's…mother's…what do you call Harry Potter anyway?" Alastor said from next to the bed. "I can't believe I've never asked you that."

Victor turned his head to the left and blinked. "Papa," he answered.

Alastor stared. "Papa. All right. You're in your Papa's old room at Number 4 Privet Drive in Little Whinging in Surrey. Ironic, isn't it?"

"Somehow, I don't think that's the word that Papa would use," Victor said with twitch of his lips.

Alastor snorted. "No, I doubt it is," he said.

"How did I get here?" Victor asked curiously. "I don't remember."

"I brought you here," Alastor said. "The blood wards are down but the other wards on the property are still active. It was the safest place in the area."

"Why didn't you just apparate me to Grimmauld Place?" Victor asked in confusion.

"You can't apparate someone more powerful than you unless they're conscious and willing," Alastor said. "You were dead on your feet. This was the best I could do. Besides, you left the wards up."

"Oh, sorry. I forgot about them," Victor said absently. "And Papa always apparated with me so I never really thought about that aspect, either."

"Potter is still more powerful than you?" Alastor asked in surprise.

Victor smiled in amusement at his Advisor's shock. "He is, yes." He lifted his hand to his head and fingered the crown that was still there. "I have this now, though. I can feel the power available to me should I need it, like I did… How long has it been?"

Alastor grunted. "It's been two days. Laura looked you over and said you were just exhausted so we've let you rest. There're throngs of people outside, though, just waiting for a glimpse of you. Word spread fast. You'll need to make a few appearances."

"I will," Victor said. "I need to send a message my family first."

"Already done," Alastor said. "There are several replies waiting for you."

"Thank you," Victor said gratefully.

"You're welcome," Alastor said. "Now get up and make yourself Kingly. You have court to hold."

--January--

Over the next month Victor swore he must have met every last wizard citizen of Avalon and not a few of the non-wizard ones. Instead of meeting him and returning to their homes, the people starting camping close by, despite the cold weather, laying in wait to hear what the new King would do first. He was going to start issuing proclamations just so that everyone would go home. This was actually the purpose of calling today's "court", attended by a motley group of people whose turn it was to see him.

"Your Majesty?" one of the newly-appointed pages said hesitantly.

"Yes, Alan, what is it?" Victor asked the boy kindly.

"Regina Lovegood is asking to see you," Alan said hesitantly. "She has, uh, a white wolf with her and, uh, a squirrel is sitting on the wolf."

Alastor sucked in a small surprised breath and Victor shared a glance with him. "So, now we will both learn who the Wolf is," Victor murmured.

"You know the Squirrel?" Alastor asked quietly.

"Oh, yes. You?" Victor asked just as quietly.

Alastor nodded slightly. "I believe so," he answered.

"Show them in," Victor told the page.

A few minutes later the boy escorted into the "Hall" – a local school gymnasium that hadn't been destroyed – a beautiful young blonde woman dressed in what was obviously her best dress, a deep blue embroidered velvet that accented her light blue eyes. The woman approached and curtsied respectfully to the King while the white wolf sat quietly next to her and the squirrel clung to the wolf's fur and poked its head around the wolf's ears.

"Ms. Lovegood," Victor nodded politely. "I've heard much about you. All good things, I assure you."

Regina smiled and said, "Thank you, Your Majesty. I've heard much about you, too. Not all good things, though, I'm sorry to say. There are many who are worried that you won't be able to understand the people."

"An understandable fear," Victor said. "That is why I will take advisors from the people, like Alastor here, and, if I might be so presumptuous, the two animagi that you have brought with you."

Regina laughed lightly. "Yes, Your Majesty. May I present Hermione Granger, the leader of the Unspeakables."

There was murmuring among those present at the identity and the occupation the squirrel. The Unspeakables had been very helpful to the people but to have their leader here? And freely admitting to their identity? It was a good day to be in court. This was choice gossip.

The squirrel clambered down the wolf's body then turned into a bushy-haired woman dressed plainly in a blue sweater, worn jeans, and heavy boots.

"Your Majesty," Hermione said with a wry smile and a bow.

"Aunt Hermione," Victor said with a small laugh. There were more murmurings. "Did I do well?"

"You've done very well, my nephew and godson," Hermione said with a soft smile. "Very well. I'm proud of you."

Victor smiled and everyone could see that the young man, while King, was still boy enough to take pleasure and pride in pleasing the authority figures in his life. "You have something for me, Auntie?"

"Indeed," Hermione said and pulled something from a pocket then enlarged it. A large book became easily recognizable to everyone. "I have for you the secrets that the Unspeakables have kept hidden these many years. We hid the sites of importance from Voldemort and will now release them back to the people one by one at your command."

"And what are your secrets?" Victor asked over the exclamations of surprise. "Will you release one today to give hope to the people?"

"If it is your will," Hermione said.

"Please," Victor said.

Hermione opened the book to the last page. "I, Hermione Jane Granger, leader of the Unspeakables, do hereby release from our guard the secret of Hogwarts." She continued to speak over the excited hubbub. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is located in northern Scotland," she said strongly.

Everyone present witnessed a globe of magic rise from the book and flash brightly before disappearing. Stunned amazement gripped the crowd for a moment as all those old enough to remember Hogwarts were now suddenly able to remember its location. Laughter and tears of joy were then shared for several long minutes.

"I thank you," Victor said softly once things were quiet again. "Let it be known that all with proper qualifications who wish to teach should present themselves to me over the next six months. In July letters will go out and school will start in September for _all_ those who never got a chance to attend, even those over seventeen. Tuition for all shall be paid by the Crown for seven years."

The cheering was deafening.

When it was quiet once again, Victor said, "I offer to you the position of my second Advisor. Will you accept?"

"I would be honored," Hermione said with another bow and walked over to take her place beside a scarily grinning Alastor.

"And who else do you bring before me?" Victor asked Regina.

"Your Majesty, may I present my mother, Luna Lovegood," Regina said. The white wolf morphed into a smiling blond woman dressed in a plain tan dress.

It was only Hermione that was unsurprised.

Victor's eyes widened in understanding. "I see," he murmured, though only Alastor and Hermione were close enough to hear him.

"You understand the significance, Your Majesty?" Alastor murmured.

"Yes, I understand," Victor answered. More loudly, he said, "Ms. Lovegood. I've heard many good things about you."

"Your Majesty," Luna said with the same smile and a small curtsey. She wasted no time in getting to the point – there was still much to do, after all. "You are a good man, Victor Potter, but you come from outside. You are King but have no ties to this Land. I would bring you fully to us, to your new people. I would give you ties here. I would give you my daughter as your wife. Will you accept her?"

Again there were murmurs, shocked and hopeful. The Lovegoods were the best of people and they could influence the new King. It would be good for him to have real ties here.

Victor took a deep breath. He'd known this was coming. And, really, given the girl's name, he should have realized. "Should your daughter be willing, I would be honored to accept such an accomplished and beautiful woman as my wife."

"I am willing, Your Majesty," Regina said with a grin. "If it pleases you, I would like to marry on April 10th in honor of my grandfather, who died just last year."

"Then let word go forth that we shall marry on April 10th," Victor said. "All are invited to witness our bonding and feast with us."

There was more cheering and Victor wondered if he should cast some muffling spells upon his "dais" of palettes. "And will you, Luna Lovegood, accept the position of my third Advisor?"

"I will," Luna said and walked gracefully to the Advisor's positions and joined Hermione and Alastor, her small smile still on her face.

Victor took a deep breath and went to more properly greet his wife-to-be. Regina grinned at the kiss on her hand and let her fiancé lead her to the makeshift dais and sit her on a second "throne" that he summoned from the folding chairs.

The remainder of that day's court was, thankfully, uneventful. The same thing could not be said for the days, weeks, and months that followed. Filius Flitwick arrived from The Pleiades one day and after an hour-long conversation with the King – and subsequent fealty oaths – accepted the position of Headmaster and took over the evaluation of applicants to teach at Hogwarts. Minerva McGonagall had asked for the position but it had been refused her after she refused to swear fealty. Minerva had left then and the remaining Order members found out about her March death only by accident.

The Centaurs had sent a representative and that negotiation had gone surprisingly poorly – Victor categorically refusing to cordon off any part of Avalon for the sole use of any one race. The Goblins had sent a representative with an already penned agreement and that negotiation had, to everyone's shock, gone swimmingly and the Goblins re-opened the Bank on February 4th. The Veelas sent a representative and Victor had merely confirmed that the agreement was the same as the one he'd hashed out years ago before signing it and sending it back to his great-great-grandmother.

The Unspeakables, a little bored, spent the majority of their now free time helping citizens build houses and start gardens. The WATs, also bored, joined the construction efforts, but focused their labors on building the workshops and guild halls that were requested by the still hidden craft masters. The King set aside a couple of hours every other day to help out on whatever project his Advisors told him to go to. Regina always accompanied him and he quickly gained a reputation for being even-tempered and hard-working. By April the people were much less worried about their new King and eagerly attended the wedding.

The wedding was, in fact, attended by every remaining wizard and witch of Avalon, regardless of age – a total of approximately 20,000 people. The Centaurs declined to come but nearly a hundred Goblins showed. Dignitaries from around the world were invited and all either came or sent representatives. Many from the Delamater family came and nearly all of the Malfoys. The truth of the Malfoys and the activities of their vassals had been revealed and all of the vassals were invited and more than half of them came - bearing food enough to feed everyone in attendance five times over.

And, of course, Victor's immediate and extended family also came. Aunt Lavender and Uncle Liam and Aunt Pansy and Uncle Neville came and brought all their children. His Father came and gave him construction plans for a palace of his own along with the promise to build and ward it for him. His Papa came, too, giving a bitter smile when he recognized the current "Royal" residence and stoically bearing the nasty glares of some of the people he encountered. In private, Harry gave his son the keys to the Potter vaults and told him to have fun with it instead of using it for rebuilding the nation. Victor's brothers and sisters had an entire contingent of Royal Guards accompanying them, but Victor was glad that his Papa had even let them come at all.

The bonding of Victor and Regina was held in the surprisingly intact Stamford Bridge stadium in London. It wasn't the most romantic of venues but it allowed seating for all the guests and the lack of decorations and flowers didn't seem to hamper the shedding of tears throughout the nearly 40,000 attendees at the beautiful ceremony.

The "private" reception for family, visiting dignitaries, Order members, WAT teams, Unspeakables, and miscellaneous high-level people was held back at the school gymnasium in Little Whinging. The "public" reception stayed at Stamford Bridge and spread throughout the entire stadium and its surroundings. Partying was enthusiastic and lasted all the way until sunrise at both locations.

It was a jubilant and hopeful people that watched the dawn and looked forward to a new era.

--The End--

Bunches of notes follow. I've marked each one with a date, additions will be at the end.

_Babies - June 4, 2008 _

Harry's Babies:  
6/98 – Amandus & Vitus  
8/99 – Evander & Timeus  
7/00 – Constantine & Galenus  
8/01 – Aurelia & Victor  
10/06 – Eliana & Callista  
12/14 – Phoebe & Roxana

The names are all Roman and were found here: www.20000-names--com/female(underscor)latin(underscore)names.htm and www.20000-names--com/male(underscore)latin(underscore)names.htm

Lavender's Babies:  
2/00 – Jasmine  
5/06 – Liam Jr.  
4/09 – Rosemary  
8/13 – Devlin

Pansy's Babies:  
8/99 – Franklin  
3/02 – Valerie  
9/06 – Lionel  
3/10 – Gerard  
5/14 – Orson

Luna's Daughter:  
9/99 – Regina

_Chapter Title for An Introduction to Veela - June 4, 2008 _

Doubled Biology – Hawk & Human  
Halfling Gender & Genetics: Female, Y-Male, X-Male  
Marriage, Mating & Reproduction  
Family Structure & Material Inheritance  
Community Organization – Villages & The City  
Economic System – Careers & Caretakers  
Political System – Queen & Country  
A Brief History: Domestic  
A Brief History: International  
International Trade & Travel  
Myths, Legends, & Spiritual Belief Systems  
The Language – Not Just French  
The Arts – Revered Craftsmen  
The Sciences – Honored Scholars  
The Farms – Respected Providers

_Recommendations - June 4, 2008 _

This story was primarily inspired, I thought, by all the creature fics I've read where Harry and whoever are destined mates. I wanted something where Harry says "Destiny Shmestiny! You want me? Come and prove you're worth my time, punk!" Then I got a couple recommendations in reviews and went hmmmm… As my two favorite Veela fics, I'm sure that the stories below were also a strong influence – one for the slower buildup to a relationship and the other for a spunky "submissive" Harry.

"Not Your Usual Veela Mate" by Janara  
Here on FF net. WIP. Veela!Draco. Surprise!Harry. Slower paced with an intelligent Harry who is intent on becoming independent with the help of his new mate (Draco, of course!) and his family (Lucius, Severus). Equal opportunity bashing for Pansy, Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore. I like all the little subtle twists/sub-plots running through this story.

"Veela Inheritance Problems" by Sakya  
Here on FF net. WIP. Veela!Draco. Veela!Harry. A faster paced story with fun hunt-the-submissive scenes. I really like the way Harry gets sideswiped by his Veela instincts and is constantly saying "Wait! That's not right." I can't help but laugh every time at the "pretty new robe" line. Harry's inheritance is a surprise to all and I like what Sakya is doing/has done with the discovery of Harry's Veela family.

_Fast posting - June 4, 2008 _

For those of you who are dying to know my secret of fast posting (except this past week, of course)…(drum roll)…I was mostly done with it before I started posting. That's right, I only had this last chapter to completely write and a few others to finish fleshing out. I had wanted to be completely done, but the end of April was my own personal deadline to start posting, so I did. Of course, this caused some stress as I tried to finish up the last bits, especially since the betas were positively _shredding_ my last chapter…

_Bill - June 4, 2008_

His magic attacked Harry and made him faint…because. Yeah, yeah, unsatisfactory. But, really, I didn't have a good reason other than it was a nice way to eliminate the man. Nope, he's not married to Fleur. In this universe, Fleur is half-Veela and would have needed to mate by the time she was 17 and a half or, in other words, halfway through the seventh year of school, just like Harry. Just figure she mated to some random wizard/Veela just before coming to Hogwarts…

_Eggshells - June 4, 2008_  
The shells are from Veela - whose charisma (in the form of allure) and violence (in the form of fireballs) and shifting abilities (to a semi hawk form) are all well known. For the luck potion, I was thinking that the charisma/allure lends luck in the way that a pretty face gets what they want, etc. There would be other properties having to do with fire or protection from fire and maybe the form-shifting would lend itself to being adapted into an animagus potion, or something else similar.

_Hedwig - June 4, 2008_  
Well…just presume she follows Harry to France, OK? I admit I never even thought about her until a reviewer asked and by that time I really had nowhere to include her in a reasonable way.

_Lily having a Veela baby - June 4, 2008_  
Harry was a _human_ pregnancy, not a Veela one. Remember, the initial mating isn't quite as critical for the females because, unlike the males, they can get pregnant at any time.

_The King's oath __ - June 4, 2008  
_This is a condensed and modified version of the Queen's coronation oath that I found on Wikipedia.

_The General – June 10, 2008_  
No, the General is not Remus. And, no, he's not Ron either. The General isn't really anybody. He's just some random muggle-hating bastard of a wizard that approached Voldemort and said, "Hey, I've read about this cool tactic called guerilla warfare and I'm a good planner. Can I be your General?" The General is not some godlike strategist, however. On the contrary, he's got this one idea that he uses over and over but not in a truly devastating manner. Consider…if the General was clever he could have destroyed Britain much, much more quickly. For instance, why not destroy the oil refineries first? That would stop gasoline production which would stop trucking which would stop delivery of food anywhere in the country which would cause mass starvation in week. No, the General was a pureblood and wizard-raised and, therefore, uneducated about how to go about destroying a muggle infrastructure. He probably didn't even understand the concept, given that the wizarding world has (mostly) instantaneous travel.

_Minerva – June 10, 2008_  
Minerva was basically heartbroken. She had always been completely faithful to Albus and his vision. When Albus died, she just couldn't really accept anyone else in a leadership position, especially not someone with drastically different views/methods (necromancy). The fact that Victor was the son of Harry - someone who she perceived as having abandoned Albus in his time of need - was just another strike against him in Minerva's opinion. Minerva tried one last time to preserve Albus' legacy by requesting to be Headmistress of Hogwarts. She refused to swear fealty to Victor, however, due to the above reasons and was therefore refused. She left for her own home and basically died of a broken heart just a few months later.


End file.
